Theories of Bellativity
by kikki7
Summary: Bella Swan is a physician assistant student trying to survive a grueling clinical year. Add Dr. Edward Cullen, a cocky, irresistible ob/gyn resident. Throw in some chocolate, sprinkle with a few of Bella's quirky theories about life, and see what happens.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! This story is going to be chock full of medical references and plenty of ass-clownery. It's rated M for several reasons, mostly because of my fondness for the f-bomb and eventual lemony treats. But there will also be some mature themes discussed, as well as some ob/gyn related...stuff. You've been warned.**

**Special thanks to the lovely and talented gals over at Project Team Beta for making my words look pretty and clean : )**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

4:30 a.m.

My clock is reading 4:30 a.m., and the alarm is going off. I glare at it with unadulterated hostility through the one eye that I can manage to open.

Ugh. You've _got_ to be kidding me. Who the hell wakes up at 4:30 a.m.? Me, that's who. Because for the next six weeks, in order to get to Queens General Hospital in time for 6:00 a.m. rounds, my pathetic ass is going to have to get used to waking up at the same hour that most other college students are finally making it home to bed. As luck would have it, one of the last rotations standing between me and graduation from the Physician Assistant program had to be ob/gyn. Gruesomely long hours, on-call every third night, and at a hospital whose preceptor was well known for eating PA students alive…Oh, and let's not forget about all the estrogen and va-jay-jay.

Fuck my life.

I hit the snooze button, perhaps a bit too aggressively, and I'm about to roll over when I hear knocking. Loud knocking. Very annoying loud knocking that is now being accompanied by a rather high-pitched, and even more annoying at four thirty in the morning, voice.

"Bella, why aren't you up yet? I am not going to be late on our first day because of your lazy ass!" Alice. How on Earth can she sound so alert at this ungodly hour? "Come on, Bella. Don't make me come in there. I made coffee."

I sigh and roll my miserable ass out of bed. "I don't drink coffee, Alice. Don't you know that by now?"

I open my bedroom door and face the bright-eyed little powerhouse behind all the noise, who is holding a huge mug of coffee, and wearing a hot pink robe. Her short, dark hair is still damp from her shower. She eyes me up and down and shoves the coffee mug into my chest. I grab it in defense. "Well, looks to me like it's a good time to start."

I narrow my eyes. "It's a good thing I like you." I shove the coffee back at her, and she rolls her eyes and smirks at me.

"You love me," she calls over her shoulder as she walks back toward her bedroom. "And you have dried drool on the side of your mouth. Very attractive."

I snort and head for the shower. Yeah, I do love Alice. We've been friends since PA school started, even though we are complete polar opposites. We decided to get an apartment together when we found out we were doing our second year clinical rotations together.

I think back to the first day of Anatomy lab when she came waltzing over to my group, holding a venti Starbucks coffee cup in her perfectly manicured hands and wearing an outfit that was way too expensive to wear while dissecting a cadaver. But you just can't hate Alice; she's a force of nature. But from that fateful day on, we just sort of bonded. You know how you just connect with certain people for some reason? It's almost as if you've known each other in a previous life or something. I have a theory about that, but I'll get around to that later.

The shower wakes me up at least, and I tie my overgrown, long brown hair in a high ponytail while it's still damp. I'm grateful that I'd picked out my clothing the night before, so I could throw myself together quickly and hopefully allow enough time to stop for breakfast at my favorite bagel place. The place that not only makes the best bagels ever but toasts them and puts so much butter on them that you get a luscious burst of melted butter in your mouth with every bite. Since moving to New York, I've become absolutely obsessed with pizza and bagels. And if I was going to be elbow deep in female anatomy for a twelve-hour day (ew, that just sounds so nasty), it couldn't hurt to start it with a happy tummy.

I meet Alice in the kitchen, who of course looks way too good to be heading off to V-town at Queens General Hospital for God's sake. But I know very well why she looks so damn hot. It has nothing to do with Queens General and everything to do with Jasper Whitlock, another PA student from our class who will be joining us for this rotation. She just won't admit it. I find it rather entertaining. She has her super-sized thermos of caffeine in hand and asks me if I'm ready to go.

I do a quick mental assessment before I head out the door.

Stethoscope? Check.

OSHA approved comfortable footwear? Check.

Hideous white polyester "student" lab coat that I swear on all that is holy I will burn at the end of this rotation? Check.

"Obstetrics, Gynecology and Infertility: Handbook for Clinicians-Resident Survival Guide" in aforementioned jacket pocket? Check.

Handful of Hershey's miniatures in the other pocket? Check. Chocolate makes anything more tolerable. I may have a theory about that, too. They should do a study or something.

I take a deep breath and follow Alice into her car, a cute yellow VW Bug. I've dreaded this rotation all year. But all I have to do is get through the next six hellish weeks. After that, my schedule should be smooth sailing clear to graduation, and I can finally go back home to Forks, Washington, where a nice cushy job in Pediatrics already waits for me.

Bring it on.

**XXX**

Forty-five minutes and a belly full of butter-saturated bagel later, Alice and I meet up with Jasper at the hospital. He is tall and lean, and definitely easy on the eyes. Alice is making a good show of not noticing that his thick sandy blond hair seems a bit longer since we last saw him, and there's a well-groomed shadow of scruff gracing his jaw line. But the pretty flush that flourishes her fair skin when he smiles and greets us with his sweet Texas accent gives it away. Don't think it escapes my attention that his smile blatantly lingers on Alice. These two crack me up. It's so obvious that he digs her, but I just don't know what his deal is. I've been watching this bizarre little mating dance go on between these two all year.

We head over to meet with our clinical preceptor, Dr. James Baker. He has a reputation for being quite a hard-ass and supposedly enjoys humiliating unprepared students who don't know their shit. It's a well-known fact that if he doesn't like you, he'll keep you up to your eyeballs in scut work and make your life a living hell. Which is why I have gone above and beyond my usual OCD study habits and have practically memorized "Blueprints Obstetrics and Gynecology" in its entirety. Yeah, I can be a bit like Rain Man like that. But not all of us have a photographic memory and _natural born_ charm like my friend Alice here. So I do whatever I can to optimize survival.

The infamous Dr. Baker is not at all what I expected. He's much younger, actually, probably in his early to mid-thirties. He has thinning dirty blond hair, cold gray eyes, and a nondescript face. He doesn't strike me as intimidating. But I've heard otherwise, so I keep my mask of propriety firmly in place.

He takes us on a tour of the facilities and proceeds to give details about how the clinical rotation will be organized. During the six week long rotation, we will each spend two weeks in the clinic, two weeks in Surgery, and two weeks in Labor and Delivery. That's one of the good things about this hospital at least; it's one of the few that let you actually deliver babies if you can prove competency. Truth be told, I'm both excited beyond words and scared shitless at the mere prospect of delivering a baby. But I digress.

The three of us will each be "assigned" to a fourth year ob/gyn resident. We will alternate taking overnight call every third night - thank heaven no Saturdays or Sundays…I would just shoot myself - and will be required to attend 6:00 a.m. rounds daily, and 8:00 a.m. Grand Rounds every Wednesday. I inwardly curse Lauren Mallory for getting pregnant and taking a leave of absence, because if she was still part of our rotation group, we'd only have to take call every fourth night.

"Miss Brandon, you'll be assigned to Dr. McCarty in L&D on 2 South. Mr. Whitlock, you're going to clinic on 2 North." He turns to me and looks me up and down for a brief moment. "Miss Swan, you can join Dr. Newton in the OR, 5th floor." Dr. Baker dismisses us with a curt nod. "I'll see you at rounds tomorrow. 6:00 a.m. sharp, 3 North." And with that, he's off to bigger and better things.

Alice is completely pumped about starting in L&D. I'm more psyched that the hospital will supply scrubs to wear during this rotation. It makes the decision of what to wear each morning at 4:30 a.m. oh so much easier. I tell Alice to text me if she gets a break for lunch and make my way to the OR.

I stop at the nurses' station and wait awkwardly for someone to acknowledge me.

"Excuse me, can someone tell me where I can find Dr. Newton?"

One of the nurses looks up from a chart she's working on and quickly assesses me, taking note of the universal "student" lab jacket and glances at my nametag. She nods her head to the left. "Room 4."

I prep myself before going into the room by donning a cap and surgical mask. I realize that my ponytail under the cap gives me the appearance of having a cone head, but I don't really care. Who exactly am I trying to impress, anyway?

I enter the room as quietly as possible and stand by the door, unsure of what to do next. There are two men standing on opposite sides of the patient, both wearing surgical caps and gowns. I wonder which one is Dr. Newton. The one facing me is significantly taller than the other; I'm guessing about 6'2" or so. After a few minutes, he looks up at me. And in that instant, my breath catches. Because even though all I can see are his eyes, since just about every other inch of him is covered, those eyes are, well…kind of beautiful. Even from the distance I'm standing, I can tell they're a striking shade of green, almost like a cat…and rimmed with dark long lashes. I realize I'm probably gawking and reflexively cast my gaze downward and am suddenly grateful for the surgical mask that is hiding my blazingly hot cheeks and gaping mouth.

"You can stand by her head, next to the anesthesiologist." His voice is actually…silky. Yes, silky. Because it feels to my ears the way expensive silk feels to the skin. It causes a strange tightening in my chest. I don't like it.

I position myself where I'm told and become entirely engrossed in an abdominal myomectomy of several uterine fibroids. He's removed three so far, and there are apparently six more to go. They oddly look to me like large chewed-up wads of bubblegum.

By fibroid number six, a larger one that is shaped a bit like a headless Pillsbury Doughboy, I've become a bit bored. Some doctors like to talk during procedures, or grill students with questions to test their knowledge base. Dr. Newton has done neither so far, and the silence in the room is a bit unnerving. I find my mind wandering, and I realize I've become far too enthralled with something that is totally unrelated to uterine fibroids; because in my overcompensating effort to not look at Dr. Newton's eyes, I've become utterly fascinated by what has been in my line of vision for the past hour or so - his hands. Well, more like his fingers. They're long and graceful, and move with confident and meticulous precision. My mind is somehow hijacked with uninvited thoughts of what other talents those fingers might have.

Why the hell is this room so damned hot?

My eyes dart up in a sudden panic and are met with a set of curious green ones. I can't help but notice that they're not just green; they're probably the clearest, prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. And they fade to a lovely shade of amber at the center. Except now they don't just look curious, they look a little irritated. Shit. Eyes down.

"Excuse me, Miss Swan?"

"Um…yes?" Fuck. I suddenly feel like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. I even sound flustered. I inwardly smack myself on the side of my head.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

I stare at him dumbly. I blink. Several times I think. Words. He's expecting words. An answer. Brain kicks in and gives my mouth a shove. "No thank you, I'm fine."

He looks back down again. "Very good. Then could you please stop shifting around like a five-year-old that needs to pee? It's a bit distracting."

_No, he didn't. _

It just got infinitely hotter in here, and I can't tell if it's from embarrassment or indignation. I know the look on my face says it all because now he looks rather amused with himself.

Stupid, pretty green-eyed jackass.

For the rest of the procedure, I make sure I am completely invisible. I don't make a single move, don't ask a single question, and don't glance at him or his lovely hands. I am strictly focused on the pure clinical aspects of the procedure. I review in my head the different phases of the menstrual cycle and different types of ovarian cysts. I do not wonder what he looks like under that surgical cap and mask. Not even once. I swear. I'll bet the rest of him looks like a Neanderthal, anyway. He obviously has the bedside manner of one.

Dr. Newton finishes suturing the incision. He looks up at the ceiling with a deep sigh and rolls his head around to loosen his neck muscles. He removes his bloodied gloves with a snap, drops them unceremoniously on the table, and pulls down his mask.

And I'm dumbstruck. And royally pissed. Because Dr. Jackass does not look anything like a Neanderthal. Not one bit.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Stephanie Meyer owns everything that started the obsession. I just want to play doctor with Edward.**

This is my first story, and I'd really love to hear what you think.

Thanks so much for reading : )


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I am having an internal war right now. Because while my brain has pretty much made the assumption that this man is just a typical cocky doctor with a big ego to compensate for a teeny-weenie—another theory of mine…I could go on and on about that one—my ovaries have pretty much pushed said brain out of the way and are downright titillated. Both, however, are in full agreement that this man is just about the most luscious thing either has ever laid eyes on.

I'm completely disarmed by how attractive I find him. Maybe I'm ovulating or something. Didn't I read something about women being hornier during ovulation? Something to do with nature's grand scheme to promote continuation of the species and whatnot? I try to remember what color pill I took this morning. Yep, probably mid-cycle. But it really is ridiculously warm in here. Maybe I have a thyroid condition? I've always had the hand tremors, now sweating and nervousness…Yes, definitely a good idea to get my thyroid function checked.

I'm pulled from my revelry as I realize everyone is cleaning up the patient. I look up just in time to catch Dr. Newton pulling off his surgical cap, revealing a delicious mess of thick and unruly bronze hair, which looks like he just rolled out of bed after a good romp. He rips the bloodied paper gown off and I catch a quick glance of his broad shoulders and an ass that even looks good in scrubs, and he's out the door.

The other guy, a first-year resident according to his ID badge, gives me a sheepish smile. "Hi, I'm Tyler," he says, removing his gloves and offering his hand. I smile back and give it a quick shake, grateful for a friendly face. "Is this your first day?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'll be in the OR for the next two weeks." I bite my lip and feel my brow furrow, glancing at the doorway. "So, um…is Dr. Newton always like that?"

He shakes his head. "You mean Cullen, right? Nah, he's not that bad. He's just pissed that he's post-call and had to cover for Newton today at the last minute." Oh. Well, that may explain a few things. The poor guy has probably been working since 6 a.m. yesterday. Tyler runs his hand back and forth through his wavy brown hair. "Hopefully he'll lighten up a bit once he gets some coffee. I'm actually going to head over to the lounge and get some myself. Want any?"

I shake my head. "No thanks, don't drink the stuff."

I don't do well on caffeine. I have a slight hand tremor, technically called a "benign essential tremor." It's usually not that noticeable unless I'm nervous, and then I look like a crack fiend going through withdrawal. Stimulants make it even worse. And God forbid I actually _did_ have to pee during a procedure.

Tyler shrugs. "See you back in a few, then."

I hate this awkward time between cases in the beginning. You don't know anyone, and you don't know what to do with yourself when there's nothing going on. I know I won't get much time to myself once I'm fully brought up to speed, so I take a seat at the nurses' station. Careful to stay out of the way, I browse through my pocket review book, until I feel my cell vibrate.

It's a text from Alice.

_How's it going so far?_

_**Ok, I guess. You?**_

_Love it. McCarty is great. Wanna meet later for lunch?_

I look at my watch and see that it's only 10:12. I sigh. It feels like it should be later than that, and I'm already ravenous.

_**Sounds good. Txt me when you're ready**__. _

I hit send in time to see the next patient being brought into the room.

The next two cases are diagnostic laparoscopies, both ending up being for endometriosis. Laparoscopic surgery is pretty amazing. I saw a few during my surgical rotation. It's absolutely remarkable that they can do all these surgical procedures through two or three small holes in the abdomen. And you get to see the whole procedure on an enlarged TV screen. During the second one Dr. Cullen shocks the shit out of me and actually asks me a question.

"So, Swan, did you have any kind of medical background before you started the PA program?" I'm momentarily caught off guard, but recover quickly. It's easier because he doesn't directly look at me.

"I was a medical assistant for a pediatrician's office."

He gives a "hmph" in response. Not impressed, obviously. I internally roll my eyes.

"Have you decided what field you're going to practice in?" He adds, still not looking at me.

Typical question. He wants to know if I have chosen my specialty so he knows whether I have any real invested interest in ob/gyn. I'm sure if I tell him I've already been offered a PA position in pediatrics back at home, he'll probably write me off altogether. So I decide to hedge instead. "I'm keeping an open mind."

His eyes flit up to mine for a millisecond. His gaze is brief, but intense. Like he's sizing me up. I look away first and focus my attention on the TV monitor that displays the endometrium-covered ovary he's working on. I shove my hands in my pockets because now they're shaking like I'm being electrocuted and I'm hoping he didn't catch it.

The rest of the procedure goes by quickly and with minimal conversation, thankfully none of which is directed at me. I can't help but notice that even when Dr. Cullen closes up the wounds, he seems to take particular care while suturing and achieves an almost cosmetic result. I find myself more and more impressed.

**xxx**

After meeting up with Alice at the hospital cafeteria and letting her laugh at me about the pee incident, I'm back in the OR watching a hysterectomy. Dr. Cullen seems a bit less uptight now, and I'm assuming lunch probably had something to do with that. He actually starts to quiz me here and there, asking me about anatomy, indications, and complications of the procedures, and I'm eternally thankful for all the obsessive studying I did to prepare for this rotation. I definitely don't want to look like an idiot in front of this guy. And just when I'm starting to feel a little more comfortable around him and thinking this day isn't going so badly after all, his pager goes off.

"Swan, can you get my pager for me?"

I'm momentarily confused. I don't see a pager anywhere. "Where is it?" I ask, and I'm suddenly flustered all over again.

He glances up at me. "It's in my back pocket."

Holy. Shit.

I hesitate for a moment and can't look back at him. With my eyes cast downward and my face feeling hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night, I move myself behind him and awkwardly move his surgical gown out of the way to expose the back pocket of his scrubs—which just so happens to be covering his very fine ass. I'm in a semi-panic at this point, trying to figure out how to get the pager out of his pocket without touching said fine ass. I've now broken out into a light sweat, and I vow that I will definitely get those thyroid function tests done, and soon. I know I'm over thinking this, and can only imagine what I must look like because when I look up for a moment, to look for the hidden camera to see if I'm being punk'd of course, I meet Tyler's clearly amused eyes. Son of a bitch looks like he wants to laugh out loud any second. I grimace at him and take a moment to compose myself.

"What the hell, Swan? You get lost back there or something?" Ah, Dr. Jackass is back in full effect.

I bite my lip with newly channeled resolve and gingerly grab the outside of the back pocket, which is gaping a bit due to the weight of the pager, and pull it gently away from his…person. I then ever-so-carefully reach my hand down into his pocket, being as precise as possible, and finally reach the pager. I'm in the home stretch now, but the hand tremor is in full force at this point, and just when I think I'm home free and the offending pager is almost to the surface, my hand twitches just enough to graze him.

And if that wasn't enough to completely mortify me, the "fuck" that I hiss reflexively under my breath sealed the deal.

I close my eyes for a moment, draw in a deep breath, and muster up as much dignity as humanly possible. I square my shoulders and hold my head up high, avoiding all eye contact.

"Would you like me to answer the page for you?" I ask. My throat feels ridiculously dry.

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," he quips. "As you can see I'm a bit tied up."

_Now that's a visual._

I think my face just turned a new shade of purple, and I wonder if it would be possible for a big hole to appear so I could just throw myself into it. Sadly, no such hole appears, and I must endure the rest of the day pretending that I still have an ounce of pride left.

This is going to be the worse rotation _ever_.

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><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight. I'm just playing.**

**I'd love to hear what you think. Reviews are almost as good as getting lost in Dr. Jackass's back pocket ; )**


	3. Chapter 3

**My humblest gratitude to mc101180 for her wonderful beta work.**

**Let the games begin.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

I am relieved to find out I will be working with the "real" Dr. Newton in the OR for the rest of the week. He is a sharp contrast to the illustrious Dr. Cullen in almost every aspect. He has gentle blue eyes, a baby face, and over-gelled, short blond hair that looks so stiff it reminds me a bit of the Astro Turf in my grandmother's sunroom. He is significantly shorter, only a few inches taller than my 5'4" frame. And he certainly talks a hell of a lot more, his favorite topic of conversation seeming to be himself. By the end of the morning, I feel like I have been given a full briefing on his credentials. But it makes for a lighter atmosphere, and I feel much more at ease.

I also observe that Dr. Newton lacks the precision and finesse that Dr. Cullen has in surgery. He's noticeably messier, tends to struggle a bit at times during procedures, and it makes me realize how skilled a surgeon Dr. Cullen actually is.

The last case of the morning closes up, and I am now comfortable in the routine and help clean up the patient and transfer her to the holding room. I text Alice to see if she's free to get some lunch, and I look up to see Dr. Newton approaching me.

"Hey, Bella. Tyler and I are heading down to the cafeteria to get some lunch. You're welcome to join us." He gives me a boyish smile and looks almost hopeful. I get a small twinge of discomfort at his overt friendliness but shrug it off.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm supposed to meet someone," I answer, and he looks disappointed. I offer a small apologetic smile. "Maybe some other time?"

He nods and shrugs. "No problem. I'll see you back here at 1:00p.m. then."

Alice is already in the hospital cafeteria, sitting with Jasper. They are both leaning toward each other, smiling. She strokes the back of her rich, almost-black hair where her chic bob meets her neck, and for a moment, I almost feel guilty for intruding. I plop myself down next to Alice.

"So, Jasper," I ask with a mischievous grin, "How's Cooch Clinic treating you?"

He gives me a brief incredulous look, and then snickers. "Oh, I think I prefer to think of it as Cooter College."

Alice giggles. "How about Hoo-ha Hospital?"

"Poon Platoon?" I counter.

"Oooh, good one! How does Beaver Brigade—"

"Okay, okay, enough!" Jasper begs, laughing. "Are you two always this bad?"

I smirk and glance sideways at Alice. "Oh, this is nothing. Add tequila to the mix and watch things really start to get interesting." She kicks me under the table. Jasper shoots her a curious and definitely intrigued look. "But seriously, how is the clinic?"

Jasper leans back in his chair and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. I'll bet any amount of money Alice is checking out his biceps.

"Eh, let's just say I'm looking forward to the surgery part of the rotation, and let's leave it at that."

I nod slowly, understanding fully. I think obstetrics will be really interesting, but the gynecology aspect didn't hold much interest for me, either. _Pap smears, STDs, and yeast infections, oh my._

I worked through my essentially tasteless chicken Caesar salad and made a mental note to consider bringing food from home with me. Some hospitals have decent food, but unfortunately Queens General was definitely not one of them. I share a few of my chocolates with Alice and Jasper and then head back to the OR.

**XXX**

Wednesday morning arrives, if you can really call it morning because it's still so damn dark, and I prepare for my first overnight call. I pack up some toiletries, a change of underwear, some leftovers from last night's dinner, and my daily chocolate rations. I'm running a little later than planned, and I'm cranky because I realize I won't have time to get my bagel fix today. Alice is still at the hospital, since she was on call yesterday, and I wonder how her night went. The apartment felt strange and empty without her, and I missed having her around to nag me in the morning. It made me realize how much of a replacement for family she had become, since my parents lived 3 time zones away on the other side of the country.

I meet up with Alice for morning rounds on 3 North. She looks a little tired, but not as bad as I expect. Dr. Baker isn't on the floor yet, so I ask how her night went.

Her pretty hazel eyes light up. "It wasn't too bad, actually. I saw two deliveries and only got woken up once for an emergency C-section around 1:30a.m. But I'm definitely glad I get to leave after Grand Rounds today."

Dr. Baker arrives and asks where Jasper is. I look briefly over at Alice, and we both shake our heads. A scowl crosses his features, and he looks over our heads, just as I hear hurried footsteps behind me. Jasper joins us with an apprehensive look on his face and apologizes for being late. Dr. Baker glares at him callously and hands each of us a list of patients to round on. He reminds us about Grand Rounds at 8:00a.m and then turns to Jasper.

"Tardiness is unacceptable, Mr. Whitlock. I trust this will be an isolated incident and will not need to be addressed again." He turns and leaves before Jasper can reply.

Alice touches his arm and offers him a sympathetic smile. He takes a deep breath and shrugs it off with a grin.

"What a weenie," I mutter under my breath, and I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to skip my bagel.

**XXX**

I finish my last progress note and head over to the auditorium for Grand Rounds. I see Jasper sitting in the back of the room and take a seat next to him. Alice joins us shortly thereafter.

The lecture is on Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, and the speaker has a flat affect and a droning voice. I find myself struggling to stay awake, still not used to the unholy early hours. My eyes start to wander around the room and freeze when they spot a familiar head of deliciously messy bronze locks a few rows ahead.

I bite my lip and look over at Alice, who's doing the head bob thing as she slowly loses the battle to stay conscious. My eyes then dart back to Dr. GQ and take the opportunity to check him out properly and unfettered.

He has beautiful angular features with a striking sharp jaw line, which is clean-shaven today. He is classically handsome, and everything about him makes my girly bits want to climb to the top of a mountain and break into song.

If I could have a police composite drawn of my idea of the perfect man, it would be him.

I'm deeply entrenched in an inner debate over which is more lickable—scruffy hot jaw line or smooth hot jaw line, when I suddenly feel the sensation of being watched. I then realize that Alice is studying me with perceptive interest. She leans in and whispers, "It seems you forgot to mention that Dr. Jackass was hot as Hell."

Damnit. Here I was thinking I was so stealth and all, and I got busted ogling.

I feign indifference. "Minor detail. Doesn't make him any less of a jackass."

Alice snorts and calls my bluff. "Minor detail, my ass. You were looking at him like he was a dark chocolate fountain and you wanted to go for a dive."

Damn Alice.

"Mmmmm…dark chocolate," I whisper in my best Homer Simpson imitation. "Want one?" I reach into my pocket and pull out a Hershey's Special Dark mini.

She raises her eyebrows and holds up two fingers. I scowl at her and hand them over. Greedy little biotch. She savors her candy with a satisfied smirk on her face, and even though we both divert our attention back to the lecture, I know she smells blood and I haven't heard the last of this.

We leave the auditorium after rounds finish, and Alice talks a bit more about her night on call. She seems to really enjoy working with Dr. McCarty, and he sounds like a real character. According to her, he's like working with an overgrown twelve-year-old.

"Oh, and for the record, Edward actually seems like a pretty decent guy."

I have no idea what she's talking about. "Edward who?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You know him as Dr. Jackass. Or maybe you've changed that to Dr. Fuck-Me-Please considering the way you were checking him out back there."

I just roll my eyes. "Actually, I'm becoming a bit partial to Dr. Hemostat-Stuck-Up-My-Ass," I retort. "So, I take it you've met him?"

She nods. "He came by to see McCarty this morning. He just seemed very nice."

For some strange reason, this irritates me. I want her to elaborate more, but she doesn't. And of course I can't ask her for more details about him, since that will just add more fuel to the fire. So I let it go and try to ignore the pang of jealousy that simmers just below the surface.

**XXX**

I'm pretty psyched because since Tyler isn't in today, Dr. Newton lets me scrub in. It is significantly more interesting being able to do more than just observe. He even lets me close one of the laparoscopy incisions on the last case, and I'm thrilled to get a chance to suture. My stitches don't look anywhere near as pretty as Dr. Cullen's did, but I'm really hoping to get more practice this rotation.

By the end of the day I'm completely famished, and all I can focus on is dinner. I walk into the residents' lounge, and it's empty. I take my leftovers out of my black canvas messenger bag and pop them in the microwave. The aroma hits me as it heats up, and I can feel my mouth water.

Just as I'm sitting down at the large rectangle faux wood table with my spaghetti, I hear someone walk in. I look up and see that it's Dr. Cullen. I immediately feel my heart rate speed up, and I berate myself for being such a stupid girl.

He sits down across from me with a brown paper bag and takes out what looks like a deli sandwich and a bottle of cola. He hasn't even acknowledged me yet, so I try to focus my attention on my dinner and ignore how awkward I suddenly feel eating spaghetti in front of him.

"Where is that from?" He takes me by surprise as I am trying to eat as neatly as possible. I look up and see that he is eyeing my food with keen interest. I lick my lips nervously and pray that I don't have sauce all over them. His gaze is now fixed on my mouth, so I quickly pick up a napkin to wipe it clean.

He continues to look at me expectantly, and I realize my brain has failed me yet again. Great. He must think I'm mentally challenged at this point. Why does this man fluster me like this?

"I just brought it from home," I say with a shrug.

He looks almost disappointed and proceeds to eat his sandwich. We eat in silence for a few minutes, until I realize he keeps looking at my food. It's beginning to unnerve me. I finally snap.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to stare at other people's food?"

He looks up at me, wide-eyed for a split second. Then an unexpected lopsided grin breaks out across his beautiful lips, and I'm momentarily dumbstruck at how strikingly handsome he looks. I can't help but smile in response and look away quickly since I can't look at him for very long without my stomach doing flips.

"Yes, I believe my mother may have said something about that. My sincerest apologies," he replies with an almost roguish smirk.

I bite my lip and realize that I have been continuously twirling the same few spaghetti strands around my fork. If I thought Dr. Jackass was difficult to deal with, Dr. Charming was even worse.

"But, in my defense, that does look a whole lot more appealing than my sandwich." He adds, nodding toward my food. "And it smells delicious."

I blush at the compliment. "Thanks. The sauce is really easy to make, so I have it quite often."

He raises his eyebrows. "You made that?"

I nod, wondering why he looks so surprised. "Like I said, it's easy to make. And it's not like I want to spend my student loans on takeout all the time. So I cook a lot."

He looks almost wistful, and I actually feel bad. "I take it you don't cook very often." I add.

"I don't cook, period."

I nod thoughtfully and turn my attention back to my dinner. I'm sure he doesn't have time to cook with his schedule. I idly wonder when the last time he had a home-cooked meal was. Then I wonder if he has a girlfriend who cooks for him. Then I get annoyed with myself for letting my mind even go there. Goddamnit. I need some sugar.

I rifle through my pocket and take out one of my last chocolates. Not wanting to be rude, I decide to be nice and offer him one. His eyes brighten, and he nods, so I hand him a Krackel bar.

He looks at it, and then looks at my dark chocolate. Nodding toward it, he asks, "Do you have any more of those?"

"What, you don't want it? That's all right. I can take it back…" I say, extending my palm out.

"No, I didn't say that." He pulls his hand away protectively. "I'm just asking if you have any more dark chocolate."

I shake my head. "Nope. Sorry," I say with a shrug.

Clearly undeterred, he furrows his brow. "Really? You didn't even look."

I narrow my eyes at him. Unappreciative little shit. Who the hell does he think he is? "I think I know what is or isn't in my pocket. And I believe they say beggars can't be choosers."

He leans on the table toward me and raises his eyebrows at me. "Wanna trade?"

I lean back, folding my arms across my chest. "Nope," I say, enunciating the P at the end, and quirk my eyebrow in challenge. "And even if I had more, you wouldn't be getting any."

His lips twitch, trying to hold back a smile. "That's not very nice," he retorts. "Didn't your mother teach you that sharing is caring?"

I bite the inside of my lip and feel my nostrils flare. Part of me wants to kick him in the shin, and another part of me wants to straddle him and have my wicked way with him.

Stupid ovaries.

"_My_ mother taught _me _lots of things. Including _manners_. And for the record, I do not give my dark chocolate to just anyone. And you don't deserve."

His face is a mask of mock indignation. "I'm not sure, but I think I may be offended."

"Oh, I think you can be sure."

That fuckhot lopsided grin makes its appearance again. "Well then, please enlighten me. How exactly does someone achieve deserving status in your book?"

"You have to earn dark chocolate status, Dr. Cullen. And at this point, you barely make Krackle status."

He tilts his head to the side and rubs his chin. "Oh really? So you're telling me there is a hierarchy in chocolate status? How exactly does that work, then?"

I consider it for a moment. "Well, Krackel is pretty much entry level. Mr. Goodbar would be the next level, then milk chocolate. You have to be pretty darn special to be worthy of dark chocolate status."

"I see. You seem to have this pretty well thought out." He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. It does not escape my attention that those arms are sinewy and muscular, but by no means bulky.

"Oh, I take my chocolate very seriously," I reply and pop a piece of the candy into my mouth. I luxuriate in the deep rich flavor as it melts on my tongue. Dr. Wiseass is watching in rapt fascination. Suddenly, his pager goes off, and it actually makes him jump slightly. I fight back a smug grin as he looks at the number.

"Seen any deliveries yet, Swan?" he asks as he stands up and clears away the remains of his dinner.

I shake my head. Oh boy, am I ready for this? Well, ready or not, it's show time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight.**

FYI, a hemostat is a type of surgical clamp.

And if there are any of you out there who aren't familiar with Krackel bars or Mr. Goodbar, all I can say is, I'm so, so sorry. You're missing out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Special thanks to PG and Beccagold. You guys are the hot fudge and cherries on my sundae.**

**Just a quick heads up: this chapter contains mildly graphic descriptions of childbirth and some other medical stuff. If that kind of thing squicks you out, you may want to skim : ) **

**Chapter 4**

_Damn_ his legs are long! I struggle to keep up with him as I follow him over to Labor & Delivery. He heads directly over to the nurses' station. A beautiful tall blonde woman in fitted cranberry colored scrubs walks over to us. She looks like every man's nurse fantasy, with curves in all the right places and a face that belongs on a magazine cover. She glances over me briefly, and then turns her attention to Edward. I suddenly feel very plain and mousey and shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting.

"Hey, Edward," she greets him with a small smile, and hands him a chart. "Patient in room six is at four centimeters. Contractions are regular with some variable decelerations. I put her on her side and the fetal heart rate seems to have improved. I need orders for an epidural."

He flips through the chart. "There weren't any written already?"

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Up until 10 minutes ago, she didn't want one."

"Then, go ahead and call Anesthesia."

He turns to me as we walk over to the room. "What's the most common cause of early decelerations in fetal heart rate?"

Easy one. "Head compression of the umbilical cord. Turning the patient on their side relieves the pressure on the cord."

He nods. "Labor can progress pretty quickly after they reach four centimeters. We'll check her to see how far along she is and take it from there."

When we reach room six, I hear the patient before I see her. She is crying out in pain, and I feel my heart start racing. The closest thing I'd ever seen to an actual delivery was a circa 1970's film they showed us in class. I don't remember there being screaming in the film.

The woman looks young, probably close to my age. She has dark long hair that looks sweaty and tousled and a dark olive complexion. A man that I'm assuming is the father is sitting next to her, holding her hand as she struggles through a contraction. Her breathing starts slowing down as the contraction subsides, but her eyes look wild and her face is panicked.

"Hello, Mrs. Montes. I'm Dr. Cullen," he greets her warmly, and takes her free hand with a compassionate smile. "It looks like your labor is coming along very well."

She gives him a tight smile. "Is it too late for an epidural?" she rasps out, her voice scratchy from her screaming. "I really tried to do without it, but the pain, I didn't expect…" and she abruptly stops speaking. I can see her face and body tense up as another contraction hits her. I glance over at her monitor, and see that her contractions have become extremely regular and close together. Edward waits patiently as she writhes and cries out, giving her words of assurance.

"I'm going to check you to see how dilated you are." He then lifts the sheet covering her lower half and checks her progress. He looks back up at her quickly, his face calm and composed. "You're almost six centimeters. This is your first baby, so you should still have plenty of time. The anesthesiologist should be here soon, so try to hang in there." He tells me he'll be back and leaves the room.

Soon turns into a bit longer than soon, and Mrs. Montes is practically clawing the walls. I start talking to her in between contractions to keep her distracted.

"So do you know the sex of the baby?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "This is our first baby. It took so long for us to get pregnant, and we really just wanted to be surprised." She gazes at her husband, giving him a loving smile, which is quickly replaced by a horrible grimace as another contraction rips through her. "Holy fuck!" she screams loudly. "Where the _fuck _is the fucking anesthesiologist?" My eyes go wide, and she lets out a loud groan. "Oh my God, I can't do this. I have to push," she cries out in a panic. "NOW!"

Oh shit, where the fuck _is_ the fucking anesthesiologist? The hell with that—where the fuck is Edward? I rush into the hallway and see him and the blonde Barbie doll briskly walking toward the room. He quickly puts on a gown and gloves and checks the patient.

"She's already crowning," he says. "Mrs. Montes, you're at ten centimeters already. I'm going to need you to start pushing as hard as you can when I say it's okay."

"What about the epidural? Can't I get an epidural?" she pleads, her voice frantic.

"I'm sorry, it's too late now. Your baby seems to be in a bit of a rush. You can do this," he reassures her, his voice commanding and confident. He glances at the monitor, seeing a contraction starting. "I need you to push now," he tells her firmly. "Keep pushing until I say to stop."

I watch in a combination of fascination and horror as Edward calmly coaches her through the delivery. Poor Mrs. Montes is puffing and screaming and swearing as if she's being cracked in half, and somehow it all seems a hell of a lot messier than I expected. At this point, I have officially decided not to have any children. _Ever_. Edward performs a small episiotomy to help her along. When the baby's head finally pops out—looking bloated and kind of purplish gray and slimy—all I can think of is that scene from _Alien_.

"You're doing great," Edward praises her. "Your baby's head is out, and the hardest part is over. Take a deep breath, and wait until I tell you to push again." He waits for her next contraction, yells "Push!" and she pops the rest of the little bugger out with a long, gut-wrenching scream. His hands and long fingers securely cradle the tiny human as he guides it out. He hands the now screaming baby quickly to Nurse Barbie, who wraps it in a towel and cleans it off briskly before wrapping it up and giving it back to Edward. He then takes the baby and places it into Mrs. Montes' trembling arms.

"Congratulations," he tells her with a stunning smile. "It's a beautiful baby girl."

Mrs. Montes starts to sob, and the way she looks at her brand new baby is just indescribable. It's a combination of joy, wonder, and pure unadulterated love. I feel my eyes mist up and a lump form in my throat, and I glance over at Edward. The look of proud satisfaction on his face is just as priceless.

**XXX**

After Edward completes the delivery, he begins to suture the episiotomy. "So what did you think?" he asks.

"I think I finally understand why I'm an only child." That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?

He chuckles softly. I stand behind him and watch as he carefully repairs the tear in this poor woman's hoo-ha after the freakish trauma it's endured. And I'm not going to lie to you—something about it kind of squicks me out. I mean, I've watched and assisted in countless different surgeries. None of them ever bothered me, but this is somehow…different. After a few minutes, I have strangely become aware that the room seems to be getting a bit warmer, but I almost feel as if I'm getting chills. A peculiar uneasy feeling forms in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel a dull ache building somewhere in the back of my head. I look down to the floor, but for some reason, the tiles look a little…wavy…

I suddenly feel like I need some fresh air. _Immediately_. I think I mumble something about getting a drink of water or something and just as I turn to leave, my feet don't seem to have gotten the memo, and the last thing I remember is feeling something hit my head before the entire room fades to black.

**XXX**

I am unexpectedly assaulted with the caustic smell of ammonia. My eyes shoot open and I feel disoriented, confused.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," a semi-familiar voice calls to me. I squint to try to focus, and my eyes meet a set of pretty, large deep blue ones. I realize to my dismay that it's Nurse Barbie holding a foul vial of smelling salts and I groan.

"Oh good God, please tell me I didn't do what I think I did," I mutter, completely humiliated.

Barbie lets out an exasperated sigh. "Don't think you're the first one it's happened to. Ready to stand up?" She holds out a hand to me and helps me up. I feel strange and wobbly, and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. She supports me as I walk and leads me over to a chair. I stop in my tracks.

"No, I'm fine. Please, just let me get out of this room." So I can find a large volcano to jump into.

"Rosalie, go ahead and take her back to the residents' lounge," Edward says without turning around. "She hit her head, so make her lie down for a while."

"My head is fine," I insist.

Edward turns around and glares at me, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenches it. It's actually pretty hot. But that look tells me loud and clear that this is not open for discussion. Feeling embarrassed and utterly defeated, I lower my eyes and let Barbie take me back to the lounge.

I'm quiet most of the way. Sheer mortification can do that to a girl. I finally decide to man up when we get there and thank her for the escort.

"Oh, and I'm Bella, by the way. Though right now I feel like my name should be 'Mud.' "

She tosses her pretty, perfect, long blonde hair behind her shoulders. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get over it. There's a water cooler if you want. And it may not be a bad idea if you do lay down for a bit." With that, she heads back to L&D.

Nurse Barbie doesn't strike me as a very warm and fuzzy kind of gal.

My head still feels a little sore, so I decide that lying down for a few minutes can't hurt. I curl up onto the pleather dorm-room style couch and close my eyes.

I realize I must have actually fallen asleep when something hits my forehead and startles me awake. I open my eyes and there he is, Dr. Smug Bastard, sitting in the chair next to me with a guilty grin plastered across his face.

I give him my best death glare and think how nice it would be to be able to shoot laser beams out of my eyes so I could singe his hair. Hmmm…that makes for a rather entertaining visual. "Did you actually just throw something at me?" I snap.

"If you recall, you passed out and hit your head. What kind of a doctor would I be if I let you fall asleep with a possible concussion?"

I grit my teeth. "How about this—you stand around and watch some guy get his balls sewn back together after something the size of a watermelon comes shooting out of them, and let's see how it makes _you_ feel."

"Whoa, easy there," he says, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. "I'm just checking to see if you're all right."

I moan and cover my eyes with my forearm. "Can't we just pretend nothing happened? Please?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Well, I can be bought."

I sit up and raise my eyebrows back at him. "The chocolate is non-negotiable. You cannot cheat your way up the hierarchy with blackmail. I'm not that kind of girl."

He looks pensive for a moment, and I can virtually see the light bulb go off over his head. "I have to respect a woman who doesn't give her dark chocolate up to just anyone," he says with a sly smirk. _Punk._ "And I have a better idea, anyway."

I fold my arms across my chest and cross my legs. "Oh, I can't wait to hear this one," I grumble. "Do tell."

"It's very simple, actually. You're going to be taking call with me for the next couple of weeks. All I ask is that the nights you're on that you bring me some of whatever you've made for dinner."

I'm taken a bit by surprise, and even flattered. I consider this for a moment. I can definitely work this to my advantage. "I'll tell you what. If you promise to teach me how to suture as well as you do, you've got yourself a deal."

He flashes me that delicious asymmetrical smile that does funny things to my insides and gives a firm nod of his head. "Done and done."

**XXX**

It's been a quiet night. I'm not sure what I actually expected, but there hasn't been much of anything going on. Not like I'm complaining. It's been a long day, and I'm just praying it doesn't start getting busy in the middle of the night. I use the down time to study, and Edward tinkers around on a netbook in his lap.

After a while, he closes the laptop and places it on the coffee table in front of us. Edward stretches, then leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the small table. "So, Swan, what do you plan to do after graduation?"

"I'll probably go back home and get a job somewhere around there," I answer, neglecting to fill in the details about the position waiting for me back at my pediatric practice.

"And where would that be?" he asks, his bright green eyes inquisitive.

I shift around in my seat. "Forks, Washington. Most people have never heard of it." Alice teases me all the time about being from Podunk, Washington. Truth be told, it really is a small, rather uninteresting town. But it's where I grew up, and to me, it's home.

A strange look clouds his features. He glares at me in a peculiar way, almost like he's trying to read me.

"Forks." He says it as if it's a statement, though he's obviously questioning me.

I'm a bit confused by his reaction. I don't say anything, and wonder if he has heard of it and I've just given him new ammunition to tease me with. And then, out of nowhere, he leans his head back and starts laughing.

I'm sorry, but did I miss something?

His laughter dies down, and he runs his hands through his thick, messy hair. I'm staring at him stupidly, trying to figure out the joke I wasn't let in on. "Oh, that's a good one," he finally says. "Emmett put you up to this, right?"

I'm beyond baffled at this point. "Who the hell is Emmett?"

He studies me for a minute, and his expression becomes doubtful. "You're honestly telling me you're from Forks."

I bite my lip and look around the room, feeling uneasy again. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.

Sensing my discomfort, his face softens. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "But I don't think I've ever met another person from Forks before."

My eyes widen. "You mean…" I start, scrutinizing him and seeing that he looks completely sincere. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," he confirms. "I grew up there."

A smile breaks out across my face, and he returns a weak smile in response. "Holy crow, that's just…crazy." I shake my head in disbelief. "Do you still have family there?"

"My parents still live there."

I chew on this for a while. He grew up there, too. He went to the same high school that I did. Seriously, what are the odds? Then a random thought pops into my head. "Your father isn't also a doctor by any chance, is he?"

"Yes he is," he verifies. I chuckle softly to myself. Of course the hot Emergency Room doctor at Forks Community Hospital had to be his father. "I take it you've met him?" he adds.

I look down at the book in my lap and fidget with the top corner of one of the pages. "I think I may have been to the ER once." Or twice…I definitely don't want to get into that right now. And by the expression on his face, it doesn't look like he wants to, either. His mood seems to have shifted somehow, and he's become more aloof and almost distracted. I shrug timidly. "Small world."

He mutters something under his breath that almost sounds like, "You have no idea," but I can't be sure. It doesn't seem as if it was even addressed to me.

He stands up abruptly and scratches at the back of his neck. "I'm going to go get some coffee," he says, and walks toward the doorway. He pauses for a moment and turns his head back toward me without actually looking at me. "Do you want anything from Starbucks?"

"No thanks," I answer softly, as I glance over at the coffee maker in the room. He nods and walks out, leaving me alone and wondering what the hell just happened.

**XXX**

I must have nodded off, because he startles me when he finally returns to the residents' lounge. I glimpse at the clock on the wall and see that it's a little after 11:00 p.m., over an hour later. He walks toward me but only picks up the laptop on the table. He looks tired.

"Why don't you get some sleep," he says, gesturing with his head toward one of the on-call rooms.

My neck feels stiff from the awkward position I fell asleep in. I knead the back of it to loosen the muscles. "Isn't there something I can do? Is there anything going on I can help with?" I ask. I feel like I've done nothing all night. Oh, I stand corrected. Nothing except pass out and make a complete fool of myself, and somehow aggravate Dr. Moody.

"It's pretty quiet tonight. I'll page you if something comes up." I try to read his face, but his expression is impassive.

"Okay," I murmur, and get up to grab my bag. I can feel him watch me as I head into the call room.

"Hey, Swan," he calls to me. I turn my head to look back at him. "How's your head?"

"Oh, it's fine," I say dismissively. I wish I could say the same for what's going on inside it. "Goodnight."

I hear him quietly answer "goodnight" as I close the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight. I'm just playing.**

Poor Bella...if any of you out there have some interesting theories of your own, I'd love to hear them.

Thanks for reading : )


	5. Chapter 5

**My sincerest gratitude to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for being such wonderful betas.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

It comes as a complete surprise to me that I didn't get paged once for the rest of the night. Not that I actually slept. I tossed and turned for the most part, finding it impossible to get comfortable in the awkward twin sized bed and scratchy hospital-grade sheets. It also worried me that the pager wasn't going off at all, and I found myself checking it repeatedly through the night just to make sure that I hadn't slept through a page or the batteries weren't dead. It also goes without saying that the way my night ended with Edward left me feeling a bit…unsettled.

I shower and dress quickly, and take the stairwell up to 3 North. I'm ten minutes early, but Alice and Jasper are already there, both with coffees in their hands. Jasper is in the middle of what must be a rather impressive story because Alice is listening with wide-eyed absorption. She sees me coming and waves me toward them urgently.

"Bella, you have to hear this," she says quietly. "Jasper, tell her what Baker did."

He draws in a deep breath and glances around the hallway cautiously with clear irritation. "He had me pulled from clinic yesterday to assist with a Bartholin's abscess that was the size of a golf ball. And let me tell you, ladies—you really haven't lived until you have the opportunity to partake in one of those."

I wrinkle my nose and cringe. A Bartholin's abscess is a particularly nasty "eruption" _down there_. When they're that big, they have to be incised and drained. I shudder with disgust, and Jasper nods in agreement. "Yeah. I may very well be scarred for life. I think I'm actually grateful that I'm single at the moment."

His eyes dart sheepishly over to Alice, who keeps a perfect sympathetic poker face in place. I knew he had mentioned a girlfriend back when school started, and I had assumed that this is what prevented him from acting on the obvious chemistry he and Alice shared. Apparently, this is no longer the case. And judging from the way Alice's eyes are dancing with impish conspiracy, I have a feeling his grateful single status may be a temporary condition. He draws a long swig from his coffee cup and swallows thickly. "I think it's a safe bet that I won't be late _ever_ again."

It seems Dr. Baker likes to live up to his reputation. As if on cue, he leisurely strolls up to us and greets us with a self-righteous smirk. "Good morning. I see everyone was able to make it on time this morning." He gives Jasper a pointed look as he hands us our list of patients for morning rounds.

"I heard you had a quiet evening yesterday, Miss Swan." I hope and pray that was the only thing he heard about. "Rest assured, that's not the norm around here. I hope your future nights on call will be a bit more stimulating." I inwardly roll my eyes. "I'll see the three of you tomorrow morning, same time, same place."

We watch him walk away down the hall, and as soon as he turns the corner, Alice hisses, "Fucktard." Ah, that's my girl. Don't hold anything back.

I snicker under my breath. "Well, not to be rude, but I'm about ready to get out of here and get some sleep in a real bed. I'm getting rounds over with and going home."

I browse through my list, and sure enough, Mrs. Montes is on it. Sigh…will the humiliation ever end?

I decide to save her for last and work my way through the other patients on my list. I remove some Cesarean section staples, write my progress notes, write some orders to treat Ms. Noonan's gargantuan post-delivery hemorrhoids, and discharge two women home. It's a glamorous life an obstetrician leads.

By this point, I'm seriously questioning the motivation and sanity of anyone specializing in this field, especially men. Seriously. Are they perverts? Women haters? Do they secretly wish they _were_ women? Do they have mommy issues, and this is their closest way of getting back into the womb? This line of thinking brings me back to Edward, and I am suddenly wondering if any of that could explain his virtual shutdown after he found out I was from Forks. Did he have a horrible upbringing he was running away from? Is it possible that someone there broke his heart and he now hated women? Is it possible that I've been reading too much fanfiction, and he's simply just an arrogant jackass who doesn't want to discuss anything personal with someone like me?

Damn, I'm such a stupid girl.

I take a deep breath to try to bring myself back to reality and go to see Mrs. Montes. When I walk into her room, she is sitting in a chair feeding her swaddled newborn a bottle.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Montes," I greet her with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

She looks up at me, and I take note of how different she looks today. Her face is relaxed, and she appears to be very serene. I could almost say she is glowing. She recognizes me and smiles. "Ah, Miss Bella. Maybe I should ask you how _you_ are feeling today."

I sit down on the bed across from her and fold my hands in my lap. "I'm so sorry about that little…umm…mishap," I offer, trying to swallow down my embarrassment. "But obviously, I'm fine. Did you get some rest last night?" I ask, attempting to redirect the conversation back to business and away from me.

"Believe it or not, I slept better than I have in months, and that's even with these damn people waking me up every four hours to take my blood pressure and temperature. You have no idea how amazing it feels to be able to sleep on my stomach again."

I chuckle softly. "Well, you look great." Especially considering what her poor body just went through. "Are you almost finished feeding the baby? I'll need to examine you when you're ready."

"Oh, she's pretty much finished," she says and puts the bottle down. She adjusts the blanket around her baby, and leans in to give her a tender kiss on her forehead. Mrs. Montes then slowly rises out of her chair and carefully places her newborn back in the plexiglass bassinet. I stand and help her lay down on the hospital bed.

"So what did you decide to name her?" I ask as I gently palpate her deflated abdomen.

She gazes lovingly over at her sleeping daughter. "Sophia Grace," she answers. I find it hard to reconcile her with the screaming, cursing woman I saw only a few hours before.

"That's a beautiful name. And a beautiful baby." I finish my exam and review her vitals. "Congratulations again."

"Thank you so much, Bella." She beams at me. "She's worth it. Every minute of it—she was so worth it."

And at that moment, seeing that incomparable blissful look on her face, for the first time I think I actually understand.

**XXX**

"Honey, I'm home," Alice calls out in a sing-song voice as she walk in the door around 6:30p.m..

"How was your day, dear?" I answer sweetly from the kitchen as I pull a set of oven mitts out of a drawer.

She plops herself down onto the couch and dramatically sprawls her limbs as she sinks into it. "I am so beat," she whines as she kicks off her shoes and draws in a deep sigh. Then her head perks up, and her face brightens. "Is that macaroni and cheese I smell?"

I grin and pull the large bubbly hot serving dish of cheesy gooey goodness from the oven, drawing in the delicious, comforting aroma. She's at my side instantly. "Oh my God, Bella, I so totally love you." She practically vibrates with giddiness. "I may just become a lesbian for you."

I snort. "Considering that's the best offer I've had in ages, I may just take you up on that someday. But something tells me Jasper wouldn't be too happy about that."

She rolls her eyes but gives me a naughty grin. "Maybe, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching."

I groan and hip-check her tiny ass out of my way. "Just shut up and get some plates."

"Geez, how many people do you plan on feeding tonight, anyway?" she questions, staring at the large tray of food. She sets the plates down on the counter and grabs silverware from the drawer.

I spoon a large serving onto each dish, and sit with her at the small table in the kitchen. "I decided to make an extra large batch so I could freeze the rest. I want to have food we can bring in when we're on call. I'm going to cook some more this weekend and just stock up the freezer." I really love to cook, almost as much as I enjoy eating.

"Awesome idea," Alice compliments as she shovels a spoonful into her mouth. For someone as thin and petite as she is, she sure can pack it away. It's funny how she looks like a dainty little ballerina but she can eat like a linebacker. I seriously have no idea where she puts it, but I love how she enjoys my cooking. "You are a culinary goddess."

After dinner, we veg out on the couch in our pajamas, basking in our carbo-loaded stupor.

"So, you haven't told me about call last night," she says, and tucks her legs underneath her. "How did it go?"

I moan and slump into the couch, clutching a throw pillow across my belly. "It was okay, I guess. Very quiet, only one delivery. But…" I proceed to give her the details of my awkward night, lamenting about the great syncope fiasco and telling her how Edward reacted when he found out I was from his hometown.

Alice giggles. "Well, it may not have been busier, but your night was definitely more interesting than mine. So, this means you're going to be taking call with Dr. Fuck Me!"

I roll my eyes at her misdirected enthusiasm. It figures that after everything I told her, all she focuses on is that I'll be working with Dr. Jackass. "I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. He's really temperamental. I'm beginning to think he may be bipolar or something."

"Oh come on, Bella. I don't know who you think you're fooling, but you are totally in heat for that man. Not that I blame you. I wonder if he's single…"

"Oh my God, Alice, settle! Since when did you turn into a Jewish mother?" I don't even want to entertain that line of thinking. The ovaries are bailing on me and taking her side, but I really don't care what they have to say.

Diversion tactics are the only thing that seems to work with Alice once she gets her mind set to something, so I pull out my ace in the hole.

"While we're on the subject of who's single, didn't Jasper say something about that this morning? What's going on with that?" I ask, watching her face carefully. I had a feeling by her reaction to his comment this morning that it wasn't news to her, and I knew this was a good way of giving her a turn in the hot seat. Sometimes I'm so brilliant it just hurts.

She scowls. "He broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago. Apparently she'd been feeling neglected since he was so busy with school and was cheating on him with her married ex-boyfriend."

My jaw drops. "Are you kidding me? That's terrible." My heart went out to Jasper. Alice and I got to know him pretty well last year, and used to study with him every now and then. He was a really good guy. He may be a little on the quiet side, but was definitely fun to be around once he opened up. It made me livid to hear that some callous bitch did that to him. "Is he okay?"

"You know, I was surprised that he didn't really seem upset by it. If anything, it sounded like he was relieved it was over between them." That didn't surprise me at all. I seriously wonder if the two of them were actually unaware of the mutual attraction or consciously avoiding it.

"So, that means he's available now, Alice. You want to talk to me about who's fooling anyone? I mean, seriously! Just jump him and get on with it already."

She sighs and hangs her head over the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I like him, Bella. I mean, I really _like _like him. I think he may be it for me. I can't explain, but I really think he's_ the one._"

I nod thoughtfully. "I think you're right. You know, I have this theory, that—"

Alice sits up abruptly with a goofy grin on her face. "Okay, let me brace myself. Here comes another profound Bella Swan theory," she teases, making a show of giving me her undivided attention.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

She snorts. "Oh, come on now. You have a theory about everything."

I'm not sure, but I think I may be a little offended. "I do not!"

"Um, yeah you do," she retorts. "Your 'theories' are really just a bunch of random, quirky 'world according to Bella-isms.' " She takes note of my sour expression and gives me an assuring smile. "But they're cute. It's part of your charm."

I pout and cross my arms over my chest. "Fine. I'll keep my theories to myself from now on."

"Oh no, please," she prods. "You have to tell me now."

I turn up my nose and turn my head away. "No, no. Never mind."

She kicks my leg. Hard. Ow! "Just _tell_ me already!" she shrieks at me.

I glare at her. "Fine," I give in with an exaggerated sigh. "I just believe that there's a reason why some people are instantly attracted to each other. Why there are some people you meet and just 'click' with right away, while others you immediately dislike, even though you don't know them. I have a theory that it's because souls recognize each other from a previous existence."

Alice tilts her head and stares blankly at me, like I just told her that I had proof that the Tooth Fairy was real. "Yeah. I think you lost me."

I shake my head. "Look. Let me put it this way. I believe we're more than just mobile meat—"

She cuts me off. "Mobile meat?"

"Damn, Alice, will you just let me finish?" I reprimand her with a huff. "Like I was saying, we're more than just flesh and blood. Is that better? I believe we all have souls, this essence that makes us who we are. I think that souls continue on, even once our bodies are dead and gone…"

"How very New Age of you, Bella. Do you align your chakras every morning?"

I chuck a throw pillow at her head, making her squeal and giggle as she ducks away.

"I am so done with you," I chastise, and move to stand up to walk away. Alice quickly grabs my arm, and forcefully pulls me back down next to her. Where the hell does the little gnome get her strength?

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you," she appeases me. "I understand what you're saying. You think souls can recognize each other from previous lives or something, and are attracted to or repelled by one another based on past life experiences. Am I right?"

"Exactly! And I think that some souls are just meant to continue being together forever."

Alice pats me gently on my cheek. "You're such a sweet little fruitcake, you know that?" she teases.

I gently swat her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, maybe," I concede with a wry smile. I think I've always been aware that my brain works on a slightly different frequency than most other people. And I'm okay with that. "But I really do think you and Jasper are meant to be together. The two of you had this instant connection from day one. I see the way you fools look at each other. You can finish each other's sentences, for Christ's sake!"

She doesn't say anything, and for a moment looks unsure, deep in thought.

Something just isn't making sense here. Alice was never one to be shy around men. She's confident, extremely pretty, and very used to male attention. Why does it seem like she's holding back?

She takes in my confused expression and gives me a pointed look. "I don't chase boys, Bella. I have no intention of being his rebound girl. If he wants me, he's going to have to come after me when he's ready." Her lips twitch and curl into a self-assured grin, and suddenly the Alice I know is back. "And he will."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight. I'm just playing.**

I know, I know, no Edward in this chapter. Believe me, I miss him too : (

But I promise, Dr. Jackass will be back in full effect. I just have to lay out a little bit of groundwork, first.

Give a gal some love. I'm dying to hear what you think ; )

**See you Friday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Obligatory disclaimer: SM owns it all.**

**Heartfelt thanks to Beccagold and Pennyloafer for, well, everything. And to my very talented betas, mcc101180 and Love of Escapism.**

**So, here goes...He's back...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

I'm not sure if it's just because it's finally Friday, but I have to say, I'm in an uncommonly good mood today. I'm starting to get comfortable with the routine in the OR, and Dr. Newton lets me scrub in with each case now, even though Tyler is also scrubbed in. It's not as if he lets me do all that much, but the view of the procedure is much better and he allows me suture. It makes up for the fact that he rarely shuts up. I've learned more about him than I ever wanted to know, and sometimes I even catch Tyler giving me a sympathetic grin. In a sense, the banal chatter is almost like background elevator music, and it's comforting that he doesn't bother to ask me any questions. So I smile pleasantly and nod while he goes on about everything, whether it's about how many articles he's had published or his incredible bowling average. He's a relatively nice guy...in an overbearing but harmless kind of way.

He asks me to join him again when we break for lunch, and I apologize and explain to him that I usually meet up with Alice. He doesn't mask his disappointment. I almost feel bad, but not enough to ask him to join us.

When I get my phone to text Alice, I see that there's already a message from her.

_Meet me in the residents' lounge._

Once I arrive, I see she's already sitting at the table and eating with a rather large, burly man with thick wavy brown hair and huge, muscular arms. Alice looks like an anorexic dwarf next to him, and it's almost comical. She sees me and smiles.

"Emmett, this is my roommate, Bella Swan," she tells him. He gives me a warm, broad smile that showcases an unexpected set of dimples, which make him look boyish and a whole lot less intimidating. I automatically smile back and take a seat next to Alice.

"Emmett McCarty, at your service." He extends a large hand, and I shake it timidly. Ah, so this is Dr. McCarty, the overgrown twelve-year-old I've been hearing about.

"So, Bella," he begins, as a mischievous grin spreads across his face, "I heard that Cullen managed to get you flat on your back already."

No, he didn't!

I feel my eyes go wide, and my face becomes hot. Though I quickly realize he's just messing with me, it infuriates me that he obviously knows about my little syncope incident the other night. I know Alice wouldn't sell me out like that, which could mean only one thing.

I feel my jaw tense. "Why that little…"

Emmett makes no attempt to hide his amusement and lets out a good-natured chuckle. "Down, girl. Edward didn't say anything to me about it, I swear."

I'm taken aback for a brief moment and then turn accusatory eyes to Alice. She shakes her head, her expression telling me she's just as surprised as I am. But if neither of them said anything to him, then how did he…

A quiet gasp escapes my lips. "Nurse Barbie told you? What, does the entire department know now?"

"No, I'm pretty sure just her boyfriend," he replies with an expectant look on his face. He waits patiently for me to process. When it does, my eyes drift down to the table, and my mouth forms a silent "Oh" while I wonder how to take my foot out of it.

"So, does that make me Dr. Ken?" he deadpans.

Okay, now that is funny. I can understand why Alice likes him. I give him my best poker face. "I hope not for your sake. I heard they broke up years ago."

"It's true," Alice agrees solemnly. "It was in the news and everything."

Emmett shakes his head. "All right, all right. I'll tell you what, Bella. You promise not to call Rose 'Barbie' anymore, and I won't give you shit about being a total wuss."

I am completely irritated that this is the first impression I'm being sandbagged with. I'm about to open my mouth to protest when I notice him look over my shoulder. I turn my head around to see what he's looking at, and I see it's none other than the illustrious Dr. Cullen.

I'm unnerved by my body's immediate visceral reaction to his presence. My heart starts racing, my hands tremble, and my stomach suddenly feels completely twisted inside. I note that he appears to be caught off guard by my presence as well, and I notice his brow furrow slightly and the muscles in his fuckhot jaw twitch. But he recovers quickly and looks right through me to Emmett.

"Dude, whatcha doing for lunch?" Emmett asks.

He hesitates for a millisecond, glancing over at Alice and me. My right foot starts bouncing on its own accord under the table, and my eyes start glancing around the room. Anywhere that he isn't. "I'm heading over to the deli," he addresses Emmett. "You want anything?"

"Gimme a sec, bro. I'll join you." Emmett stands up, and I can fully appreciate how big he really is. He's built like a football player. He puts on his lab coat and turns to Alice and me. "Don't take it personally ladies, but I deal with estrogen all day, and I could use a testosterone fix." He flashes that dimpled grin again. "Pleasure to meet you, Bella."

"Likewise," I answer. Right before they leave, Edward gives me a quick, tense nod of acknowledgement, almost as if it's an afterthought.

I look down at the floor and sigh loudly. So much for my good mood. I don't know what irritates me more…his oddball behavior toward me, or the fact that I actually care. I heat up my mac and cheese leftovers with a heavy feeling in my chest, and sit back down at the table with Alice. I feel her eyes on me while I push the food around the container with my fork, not feeling as hungry as I thought I was.

"Emmett seems pretty cool," I say without looking up.

Alice just mumbles "Mhmm" with her mouth full, and keeps watching me.

"I told you he was a moody, bipolar jackass," I grumble.

"Mhmm," she agrees half-heartedly.

I finally look up and glare at her. "Is that all you have to say?"

She looks me in the eye as she nonchalantly takes another bite of her lunch, and chews very slowly. "Mhmm."

"Gee. Thanks for stopping by." I put the lid back on my lunch, having no desire to eat.

Alice gives me a pointed look. "Would you rather I say, 'Poor baby. Is the big bad Dr. Jackass giving you a hard time? Let's sit and analyze why he's acting the way he does around you.' Would that make you feel better?"

_Yes._

My rational side steps up and gives my emo side a swift kick in the ass.

"No, of course not." Yeah, I know I'm pouting a little. Sue me. It's been a long week.

She regards me for a moment and then gives me a gentle smile. "I don't know about you, but I think we're about due for an appetizer night. How does tomorrow sound?"

My mood brightens. For appetizer nights, we go out and order several appetizers to share instead of actual meals, and usually margaritas are involved as well. It's sort of like "playing the field" with food instead of committing to one entrée. That's one of the things I love about Alice...she always seems to know what I really need. "Sounds like the best offer I've had all week. You're driving."

**XXX**

Although I would have much rather had Alice around tonight, I decide to take advantage of having the apartment to myself since she's on call. I take a long hot bath, blast my music, and dance around the house in my underwear. I vegetate and watch mindless reality TV until my eyes can't focus. Most of all, I try everything in my power _not _to think about Dr. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. But that's the funny thing about going out of your way to keep your mind off of something. The harder you try to ignore it, the more those uninvited thoughts worm their way into your brain. So I inevitably find myself concocting outlandish theories about why a certain beautiful green eyed dickwad was treating me like a pariah.

It seemed to hit the fan after I told him I was from his hometown, Forks. Could there be something about his past he was hiding? I liked that line of thinking because then it would have nothing to do with me.

Hmmm…the bad family upbringing and broken heart premises were plausible, but what if it had to with something more scandalous? Maybe the good doctor was hiding something?

My overactive imagination just took off with that idea. I entertained myself with thoughts that maybe he was a serial killer, and had buried a dozen bodies in the woods. There sure were plenty of trees in Forks.

Maybe Edward had a reputation for being a cross dresser back home. I'm sure he'd be upset with the possibility of someone "outing" him here. Even better…maybe he wasn't really Dr. Cullen's son at all. Maybe he was really his _daughter. _I mean, after all, he is rather pretty.

I consider the idea that he's in the witness protection program, and is afraid I'd blow his cover. Or that maybe the real Edward Cullen died years ago, and he is assuming his identity. Maybe he isn't even a real doctor...wouldn't that be a twist…

Or, perhaps it does have something to do with his family. Maybe the Cullens were really a coven of immortal vampires, and Edward had to leave town because someone discovered his secret. After all, I never have actually seen him in daylight. But I did see him eat real food…and why the hell would a vampire want to be an Ob/Gyn? Maybe I should scratch that theory.

Sigh…I just amuse the hell out of myself.

I finally settle myself down into a peaceful sleep, with visions of Dr. Jackass in lacy lingerie and stilettos dancing in my head.

**XXX**

**EPOV**

"So, are you going to let me in on what that was all about?" Emmett blurts out, once we've walked a safe distance from the lounge.

I'm really not in the mood to get into this right now. I stare straight ahead. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I'm kicking myself up and down for being caught with my guard down. When I went to the lounge to get Emmett for lunch, the last person I expected to see there was Bella Swan.

Bella _fucking_ Swan.

She caught my attention right from the start. I could tell she was attractive, even behind a surgical cap and mask. She has these huge doe-like eyes that suck you right in. And a great body. Slender with all the right curves and a fucking sweet ass.

_Oh yeah, I'm a total ass-man._

But it takes more than a pretty face and a nice ass to impress me. Emmett tells me all the time that I'm too critical of women, and he may be right. I just know what I want, and I don't think it's a crime to be particular.

Bella Swan definitely intrigued me. She seemed a bit shy at first, but clearly intelligent. She was confident and comfortable answering any questions I threw her way. I have to admit, I didn't expect that. I've precepted many students, and it's a rarity for one to be as quick on their feet and as well prepared as she was.

But the clincher was her blush. Which she seems to do a lot. It crept all the way down her neck and disappeared into the neckline of her shirt. I couldn't stop wondering how far down it possibly went.

It was obvious how flustered she got when she had to get my pager for me. I could see Tyler's reaction as he watched her fumble around behind me, and she must have put on quite a show judging by the expression on his face. I couldn't help myself after that. That beautiful crimson flush was so fucking cute—I just had to poke around more to find out what buttons would bring it out again.

Which apparently, I'm a natural at.

I wanted to know more about Bella. So while we were on call, I took the opportunity to talk to her a bit, see if I could get her to talk about herself. I discovered that she's not only bright, but she's got a smart fucking mouth, too. It takes a lot to surprise me…but some of the things that she'd come out with were completely unexpected. I like that. And damn, watching that smart fucking mouth of hers eat chocolate just about did me in. I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at a chocolate bar quite the same way again.

Bella was pretty, smart, witty and apparently a good cook, too. So what was the catch?

There's _always_ a catch.

So of course, of all the places in the world, she just had to be from my hometown, Forks.

Forks is a really small town.

Which meant that Bella Swan had to be Chief Swan's daughter.

That's a pretty big fucking catch in my book. As a matter of fact, it completely blew my ass out of the water.

"Well then, dude, you're going to have to work on your poker face. Because after that little uncomfortable display back there, you ain't fooling anyone." Emmett scoffed, and stopped short. "What's the deal?"

I feel my jaw clench, and I glare down at the floor. "Emmett, there's nothing to discuss. I'm going to the deli. If you feel like you're missing out on some female bonding time, go back."

He scrutinizes me for a moment, and then grins. "Pager girl is kind of cute," he says, watching my reaction. "She can fish around my back pocket anytime."

That just pisses me off. I know he's baiting me, and I'm not going to bite. "Go for it. I won't tell Rose a thing."

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, man, what gives? You dig her, I know it."

I knew I shouldn't have told him about the pager incident. But it was just too fucking funny not to share.

"Emmett, give it a rest." I start to walk away, hoping to send the message that this conversation was over.

No such luck. He just trots after me.

"No fucking way. This is just getting way too interesting. So what's this about?"

I sigh, and run my fingers through my hair. "It's a long story." _That's the understatement of the century._ "But the long and the short of it is, I know her father, and let's just say he's not my biggest fan."

Emmett is unimpressed. "So what?"

I give him a pointed look. "She's from Forks. He father is the Chief of Police. I can safely say, without any shadow of a doubt, that he probably wouldn't want me in the same _state _as his daughter." Especially since the man has caught me parked—more than once—with my high school girlfriend in various stages of undress. And that's not anywhere near the worst of it. I'd really like to keep my past where it belongs. In the past.

"Dude, why do you even care? Like he'd even know if you went for his daughter." Emmett shakes his head. "What are the odds you'd ever have to meet him? It's not like you're going to marry her or anything. Don't be such a drama queen. Just. Go. For. It."

I kick his words around in my brain a bit. He may be a dick, but he has a point. Maybe I am overreacting. Besides, everything happened almost nine years ago, anyway. I just know that I can't continue acting this way. The look on Bella's face when she saw me in the lounge just about killed me…the poor girl looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. It made me feel like a total douchebag.

_Maybe because you're acting like one_.

"Besides," Emmett adds with a smug grin, as we step outside the hospital entrance. "It's about time you got laid. For the good of all mankind."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Appetizer nights are fucking awesome. I highly suggest.

Any good theories out there? I'd love to hear them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi again. As always, much love and thanks to the wonderful Pennyloafer and Beccagold for putting up with my insanity. And thanks to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their mad beta skills.**

**On with the show...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

I can't even put into words how excited I am to sleep in as late as my little heart desires.

I wake up at 8:30a.m., which feels amazingly indulgent, and have some cold leftover chicken with broccoli for breakfast. Yeah, I like dinner for breakfast and breakfast foods for dinner. I'm such a rebel.

I grab my cell phone to text Alice and see there is an unread message left at 3:47a.m.

_Hey beautiful. Miss u._

_J_

I feel a familiar pull in my chest when I read it. I haven't spoken to Jacob in several months, but he still had a tendency to drunk-text me when he was lonely.

I've known Jacob Black for as for back as I can remember. Our fathers had been best friends since grade school and remained close. They would go fishing together regularly, and every summer my parents would take me to La Push to visit the Blacks. Since Jacob and I were the same age, we just sort of grew up together by default.

He was my first everything.

First kiss.

First love.

First time.

First concussion.

Though not necessarily in that order.

See, growing up in a small town like Forks had significant limitations on your social life…especially if you're the Chief of Police's daughter. Charlie Swan was very well respected, but his quiet demeanor and no-nonsense, by-the-book reputation intimidated people. Especially teenage boys. Needless to say, I didn't date much in high school. Most boys in Forks preferred to stay under Charlie's radar. Literally.

But not Jacob Black. In Charlie's eyes, he could do no wrong. He viewed Jacob as a protective big brother to me, and he was one person Charlie felt secure I would stay out of trouble with.

Boy, was he ever wrong.

I really loved going to La Push, especially time spent on the beach. It was a separate world apart from the typical Forks crowd, where no one cared that I was a more interested in books than makeup, or worried about who my father was.

As kids, Jacob and I would tag along when our fathers went fishing. I have some great memories of times we'd play in the tide pools, build forts out of driftwood, or make muddy sandcastles. As we got older, we would go off on our own, and it was more about bonfires on the beach with his friends, listening to old Quileute folklore, and sometimes even sneaking a few beers. When I was around, he brought me along with him for everything. Even though I was the only non-Quileute in his group of friends, they always made me feel like I belonged.

Which is why the first time he brought me with him when they went cliff diving, I wanted to try it, too. I was fourteen-years-old and didn't want to look like a wimpy girl. Unfortunately, I _was_ a wimpy and completely uncoordinated girl. As you can only imagine, my attempted bravado went over like a pregnant pole-vaulter. I'm not sure if I just landed awkwardly or if I panicked when I hit the shock of cold water, but I don't remember much about what actually happened. All I know is that Jacob saved my stupid ass from almost drowning, and that led to my first time meeting Dr. Carlisle Cullen, the rather attractive ER attending at Forks Community Hospital.

But, as my dumb luck would have it, not my last.

That incident did, however, put an end to our summers at La Push. My mom made sure of it. From there on, I wasn't allowed to go out with Jacob and his friends, and hanging out with Charlie and Billy Black held no interest for me. So I stopped going.

I didn't see Jacob again until I was seventeen. My best friend, Angela, had dragged me with her to First Beach one day to hang out with a group of kids from school. There were a couple of Quileute boys that were surfing there, and one of them just so happened to be Jacob.

Jacob Black had grown up. _Oh, mama_, did he grow up.

The skinny, moppy-haired boy I used to know had matured into an incredibly tall, drool-worthy, muscular hottie with beautiful russet skin and long, black hair. When he recognized me, he gave me a smile that could melt lead and he practically tackled me.

We were pretty much inseparable from there. Charlie had bought me faded red 1953 Chevy pickup once I got my driver's license. The car was an old, indestructible beast, and the only thing that Charlie trusted me driving. My parents conceded to let me take it out to La Push to see Jacob every weekend, and it was elating to be back. It was almost as if the gap in our relationship never happened, and we were able to pick up where we left off.

Only now, there were two major differences. First, I had to promise that my cliff-diving days were over. Second, there were now oodles of raging teenage hormones entering the picture, which made things between us infinitely more interesting.

So, yeah, that explains the first love, first kiss…our first time was on First Beach the night of my prom. I know. I'm a prom night statistic. How very cliché. And it was a whole lot more romantic in theory than reality. Cold, damp air…teenage boy who didn't know what he was doing…and sand. You do the math.

I had to tell my parents I twisted my ankle while dancing because I couldn't walk right for two days. Sand gets into the darnedest places. Lesson learned.

As for the concussion, well…Jacob had this old motorcycle that he'd fixed up. I absolutely loved riding with him; the feel of wind in my face and my hair, the smell of his leather jacket while I wrapped my body around his, and the pure exhilarating sense of freedom. One day I begged him to teach me how to drive it. He protested at first, considering my infamous lack of coordination and propensity for injuries. But Jacob never could say no to me.

The rest was history. I let out the clutch and squeezed the gas too quickly, and the bike took off suddenly, before I was able to get my bearings. I hit a rock just the right way, and literally flew over the handlebars and into a tree, knocking myself unconscious.

That little stunt bought me an admission to the hospital with a grade three concussion and a minor skull fracture. And a long, humiliating lecture from Dr. Cullen about the "dangers of high risk behaviors in teenagers". By that point, the staff at Forks Community Hospital was well acquainted with me. Through the years, Dr. Cullen had seen me for a variety of injuries, from broken bones to lacerations. I think the year I started to take an interest in cooking he had to stitch me up at least three times (apparently the fancy, rapid chopping they do on the Food Network takes sharp knives and a _lot_ of practice. Who'd have thought?).

Luckily, there was no permanent damage from the head injury (though I'm sure some would disagree), but it took some convincing for my parents to believe that the accident happened while hiking. I claimed to trip on a root and hit my head on a tree stump. I had never lied to them before, and hated doing it. But there was no way I wanted to risk getting banned from La Push again.

We dated through the rest of high school, and Jacob really was the sweetest boyfriend. He was always such a fun, happy go lucky kind of guy, and he always put me in a great mood. I knew I loved him, and I thought I was _in love_ with him, until he started talking about a future together.

I guess that was the beginning of the end.

I knew I wanted to go to the University of Washington for a Pre-Medicine program. Jacob planned to attend one of the local community colleges, and wanted to open his own auto body shop eventually. He couldn't understand why I wanted to go away to college, but if I planned to go pre-med, the best option was UW. Plus, being a bookworm with no real social life had paid off, and with my grades, I had been offered a scholarship.

So we did the long distance relationship thing for a while, and for the first year, it worked. But the following year didn't go as well. Little by little, the space between us became more than just geographical, and our relationship slowly unraveled.

Breaking up was essentially a mutual decision that we both saw coming, and we didn't want to wait until we hated each other. Our friendship was too important to us.

To this day, I still get a call or a text from him, usually at odd times with the time zone difference. I think I'll always consider him one of my closest friends, but I just don't believe you can ever go back. Though, sometimes I'm not quite sure if Jacob agrees.

I read the text again, and instead of calling him back, I decide to just text him back and head out to the grocery store before Alice gets home.

**XXX**

Monday morning I have new resolve for the week, and I feel refreshed after the weekend. After a much-needed night out with Alice on Saturday, it just rained all day Sunday, so I stayed in and cooked my little heart out. I made a huge fresh batch of sauce—this time with meatballs—and used it to make my famous "Bellasagna" and Alice's favorite, eggplant parmesan. And don't hate the eggplant. I used to make chicken parmesan until Alice begged me once to make eggplant instead. I've been a convert ever since. I'm totally set for meals for at least a week, and I feel completely rejuvenated.

After rounds I head to the OR and look on the board to see what cases Dr. Newton has today. Only I don't see his name on the board, I see Dr. Cullen's.

What the fuck?

This pulls the rug out from underneath me, and suddenly I'm all discombobulated. Why is _he_ on the schedule today? Is Newton sick again?

I don the sexy cap and mask and enter room 4, where the patient is just being brought in for a laparoscopic ovarian cyst removal. I help the nurse, Carmen, prep. She's petite, with an olive complexion and almost black hair that she keeps tied back in a low ponytail. She's very nice, and I'm pleased to see that she's on today.

"So, what happened to Dr. Newton?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

"The residents have five week rotations, and he'll be the night float this month. Dr. Cullen will be covering gyn surgery now," she explains.

Just fucking great. It's not enough that I'll be on call with him twice this week, now I'll be in the OR with him all week, too. I get an uneasy, sick feeling in my stomach. Could I be developing an ulcer? Or irritable bowel syndrome? Good God, school has made me such a hypochondriac.

I take a deep breath. I'm making a big deal over nothing. I am a professional. I am here to learn. I got through a hundred-hour per week Surgery rotation in one piece, so there's no reason why I can't handle a bitchy ob/gyn resident. Who, for all I know, wears a thong and garters underneath his scrubs.

Now _that's_ a visual.

My mood is feeling a whole lot lighter after my little internal pep talk. A few minutes later, once the patient is ready, the door swings open, and in walks a freshly-scrubbed Dr. Jackass. His beautiful hair and face are obscured by his mask and surgical cap, but his expressive eyes are bright, maybe even well rested. I can't help but admire how gracefully he moves, and I hate the little flutter in my traitorous heart and gut. Another guy walks in immediately after him, scrubbed as well. He's tall and lanky, and all I can see are soft blue eyes and light brown eyebrows. I'm guessing this must be the resident who's taking Tyler's place.

"Good morning, Carmen," Edward greets pleasantly, as he puts on his gloves and gown. He looks up once he's finished, and his eyes turn my way. "Good morning," he directs at me, with a nod of acknowledgement. His eyes are actually friendly, and his voice is so soft and smooth, it sends a delicious little shiver up the back of my neck.

God _damn,_ I'm such a stupid fucking girl.

I'm completely thrown off. Edward is not only unexpectedly pleasant today, but he's in an obviously good mood, which seems to be a surprise only to me. He jokes around with Carmen and the anesthesiologist. He's actually witty. And charming. And I feel like I'm in some kind of alternate universe.

Is it possible that Edward was just PMSing last week? I have a solid theory that men have their time of the month, too.

The morning seems to fly by. Edward makes a point to discuss interesting aspects of each case, points out anatomy, and even quizzes me here and there. Unlike Newton, who seemed to be more focused on merely sounding impressive, Edward actually makes an effort to teach. He's obviously very bright, and turns out to be an excellent preceptor.

Huh.

But like everything, all good things must come to an end. I'm pulled from my inner musings by a sound that actually makes my heart seize up for a moment.

His pager.

_Fuck me sideways_. He looks up at me, and I'm filled with dread for those inevitable words.

"Swan, could you get that?"

I bit my lip and look down at the floor. I know I'm definitely blushing, and I'm hoping—no, praying—that my mask is concealing the evidence.

I watch the floor as I move behind him. Ignoring the quiver in my hands, I decide to grab my ovaries and just go for it. I am thoroughly pleased with myself when I retrieve the offending pager without incident this time around, and without making eye contact with anyone in the room, I proceed to answer the page.

I dial the callback number, and a deep male voice answers, "Hello?"

"Hello, you paged Dr. Cullen?" I answer in my big-girl, professional voice.

"Yes I did, and you don't sound like Dr. Cullen." The voice answers back in a teasing tone. "Edward, you went through with that sex change operation after all?"

I am completely taken off guard, and I actually snort. I clear my throat and glance over at Edward, who is now eyeing me curiously.

"Um, no. This is Bella Swan, answering for him. He's scrubbed in a case. Can I relay a message?"

"Bella, baby! You managing to stay upright today?"

I smile and shake my head. "Well, hello there, Dr. McCarty. Are you bored? Is there any purpose to this call other than harassment?"

He chuckles, and his infectious laugh makes me smile. "Nah, just tell Cullen to call me when he's done. Catch you later, Bella."

I say goodbye and hang up, and I return to my spot at the head of the patient. Edward is focused on the hysterectomy he's in the middle of, but even with his mask on, I could swear I see a peculiar, almost amused expression on his face.

**XXX**

I'm really enjoying being in the OR today. The new resident, Peter, seems very nice and makes polite conversation with me here and there between cases. As the day goes on, I find myself actually beginning to feel more relaxed around Edward. He's a truly gifted surgeon, and he actually seems to enjoy teaching, which makes each procedure more interesting. He's a pleasure to watch, and I swear it has nothing to do with his pretty eyes or magic hands.

Wait, that sounds really bad, doesn't it…I didn't mean it that way, really. Good God, now I'm blushing again. Fuck! I keep my head down, hoping no one notices.

But as I'm trying to shut down the evil one-track minded ovaries and refocus myself, his stupid pager starts going off. Again.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_! Are you kidding me? The last thing I need right now is to be anywhere near Edward's ass!

I swear, on all that is holy, I am going to take the battery out of that thing. I mean, why the hell does he get so many pages, anyway? Newton didn't get paged even once last week.

He doesn't even look up at me this time, but I know the words before he says them.

"Swan, can you check that for me?"

Am I allowed to say no?

I glare down at the floor as I "assume the position," biting my lip because all I want to do is spew unladylike profanities under my breath. I pull his gown back, and as I'm about to pull his pocket as far away from his body as possible, he startles me by turning his head back towards me.

"Just check it, and tell me the callback number."

Okay, that's different…I retrieve the pager as quickly as possible, and read off the number. "Do you want me to answer it for you?"

He turns his head back around. "No, that's ok. That can wait until I finish the case."

I furrow my brow as I step away from him, for some reason dying of curiosity to know who that last page was from.

**XXX**

The day comes to a close, and I'm beginning to wonder if he ever plans to let me scrub in, or if I'm doomed to be pager-bitch all week. So once I'm finished helping wrap up the last case, I collect myself and decide to be proactive. Assertive. I lift my chin, take a deep breath, and approach him before he leaves.

"Dr. Cullen," I say, my tone professional, neutral. "Will I be able to start scrubbing in on cases soon?"

He regards me for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, a smug, devilish grin spreads across his face, reminiscent of _The_ _Grinch that Stole Christmas_. He pauses for a moment—for pure dramatic effect, I'm sure—before he replies.

"Miss Swan," he answers, trying to sound equally professional, "I do not let just _anyone_ scrub in on my cases. You have to _earn_ scrub status. And at this point," his hypnotic green eyes dance with mirth as he leans closer, making my heart rate speed up and my skin feel hot and flushed, "You. Don't. Deserve."

_No. He. Didn't._

My mouth drops open just a little bit, and the fucker is so obviously amused with himself that I want to backhand him with a fucking surgical glove. Or even better, something harder. My mind is scrambling for some kind of witty comeback, but all that pops out of my mouth is, "Yeah, well…fine."

Oh, wow. Good one, Bella. You really showed him.

I know my frustration is plastered all over my face, because his expression softens, and he gives me a gentle smile. That smile makes my heart flip out again, so I immediately cast my eyes down to the floor, inspecting it carefully as if the winning lottery numbers will magically appear on it.

"Listen, all kidding aside, I need to see that you know what you're doing before I let you touch one of my patients. I already promised to work with you on your suturing technique the next time we're on call, which is tomorrow. You prove to me that you can safely stitch well without stabbing yourself, and I'll let you scrub in as often as you like."

I try to mask my disappointment, because I can respect his point. But I'm not ready to give in just yet. "How about this, then. If that's how you feel, I can wait to suture until you're comfortable with my competency. But I'd still like the opportunity to scrub in. It gives me a better view of the procedure, and I feel like I get more out of it that way. I just want to get as much hands-on experience as possible this rotation."

He looks at me with an expression on his face that I can't quite place, and I wish I knew what was going through his head. He finally gives me a confirmatory nod. "I think I can live with that," he concedes. "Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm doing a little happy victory dance in my head, feeling like I've won a minor battle. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

"Oh, and Swan," he begins, his voice as smooth and delicious as honey. "Don't think I forgot about your end of the bargain. And bring a large portion. I've got a very healthy appetite."

_My, oh my._ I sincerely hope so.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SM owns it all.**

My, my, my...2 points for Dr. Jackass. And we'll be back on call with him next week.

Thanks to those of you in fanficland for reading. Each alert and review makes me do a little happy dance : )


	8. Chapter 8

**Love as always to Beccagold and Pennyloafer. mcc101180 and Love of Escapism are the best betas ever.**

**And call night begins...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

There's an underlying nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach as I drive to the hospital this morning. I am actually looking forward to the OR today, yet I can't help but wonder what kind of mood the good doctor will be in today. Will he play nice again, or will Dr. Jackass be back in full effect? If he's in bitch mode, I could just slip him some chocolate. After all, chocolate can fix just about anything as far as I'm concerned. It's my version of duct tape.

I get a longer list for rounds than usual today. The dark circles under Alice's eyes give away how exhausted she is this morning. Apparently she had a busy night on call and didn't get more than a few hours of broken up sleep. Dr. Baker makes her present all of the cases she saw, and after she does her best to struggle through it, he makes a snide comment about how she "needs to be better prepared next time." She's such a hard worker, and I see that she's hurt by his harsh words. It pisses me off, and I can't help but wonder if he's always this much of an asshole or if he just never gets laid.

As I'm leaving, I look back at Alice to see if she's okay, and I catch Jasper whispering something in her ear. It causes her to flush and grin, and I'm very happy to see that Alice is definitely more than okay.

By the time I make it through my rounds and get to the OR, the first case of the morning is already starting. Edward looks up at me as I enter, and his rich green eyes bore into me for a moment with an unreadable expression. I stiffen and feel that nervous clench in my gut return, and I wonder if he's annoyed that I'm late…I'm desperately hoping that isn't the case, especially since I'm stuck with him for the next 24 hours.

"Swan, go ahead and scrub," he tells me, taking me by surprise. I feel a small surge of adrenaline as I comply and set up my surgical gown and gloves.

I was correct in thinking that scrubbing in on Edward's cases would be more interesting. The view was infinitely better—there was no question about it. However, much to my chagrin, the view that seemed to be the most fascinating was directly across from me, and it had nothing to do with female anatomy.

Though _my_ female anatomy would most certainly beg to differ.

I had my eyes glued to each procedure, almost by force, in a conscious effort not to gawk at him like some prepubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

It's unnatural. Completely illogical. And utterly embarrassing. But the truth of the matter is that watching this man perform surgery was like porn for me. Disturbing, don't you think? Like I'm developing some weird surgery fetish or something? But something tells me it has more to do with the surgeon than the surgery itself.

I decide to test that theory…I try to imagine the most unappealing thing I can think of, and doing laundry is the first thing that pops into my head. I try that out. Edward doing laundry…Edward doing laundry shirtless…_holy fuck, that would be hot_.

This isn't working. And now I'm wondering if he's a boxers or briefs man. I sincerely hope he's not a tightie-whities man. That would be a grand disappointment.

Ha. Who am I kidding? This man would be appealing in Batman underoos.

I've _got_ to stop with the visuals.

There was such an intensity and confidence he just emanated while he worked. Something about the way his forehead creased in concentration, and the grace his talented hands possessed…it was sexy as hell. The ovaries wondered if he had that same intensity and expertise with _everything _he did...

Even watching him scrub was a religious experience. The way the prominent muscles in his lean, defined arms would flex and protrude as he vigorously worked the scrub brush over his lovely long fingers, hands, and forearms…in quick, rhythmic, calculated motions…

It astounds and concerns me how pathetic I've become. It's now perfectly clear to me—I definitely have OCD. Obsessive Cullen Disorder.

**XXX**

When I get to the lounge, after helping Carmen transfer the last patient of the day to the holding room, Edward is already there, his glorious thick hair in his signature delicious disarray, with a brown shopping bag atop the large table. I eye it curiously, craning my neck a bit to try to see inside.

He shakes his head slowly, his jaw firmly set, and takes the bag off the table and places it on the floor next to him. "Payment first, Swan."

"What is this, a drug deal?" I roll my eyes and snort, turning to retrieve the "goods" from the fridge. I feel his eyes on me as I warm up the containers in the microwave, and I feel like there's a dog watching me while it waits to be fed.

Which, come to think of it, is a relatively close assessment.

Edward's luscious green eyes widen a bit as I set the piping hot containers down on the table. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that the delectable aroma wafting off of the food is absolutely heavenly. Or possibly that his portion is almost three times the size of mine.

"You said you had a big appetite," I challenge with a little smirk.

His lips curl up on one side and form that lopsided grin that makes me turn into goo. I'll bet he's used that smile to get away with murder his entire life. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I did."

I suddenly feel irrationally nervous and chew on my lip as I watch him take a generous bite of the lasagna. Now mind you, I don't make just any ordinary run-of-the-mill lasagna. There's a reason I call it "Bellasagna." It's seriously kickass. It has generous amounts of four different cheeses and just the right amount of my homemade sauce. I bake it until it's nice and gooey on the inside but has just the right amount of nicely browned cheese on top and crispy golden edges. It's been known to end wars and make grown men cry. It was always Charlie's favorite, and I could get him to agree to just about anything whenever I made it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope that it would have a similar effect on Dr. Mercurial.

His eyebrows rise as he tastes it, and he looks up at me, a look of disbelief on his face. "You honestly made this?" he asks me, before he places another large forkful into his mouth.

A few choice snarky comments pop into my head, but I restrain myself and push them aside. Instead, I just nod and turn my attention to my dinner, feeling a bit of relief and a surge of pleasure that he clearly seems to be enjoying it.

I resist the urge to watch him eat, because that would just be downright creepy. I focus instead on my own dinner and try to enjoy the silence.

"I'm impressed," he finally says, and I'm a bit surprised to glance up and see that he's completely finished that huge portion. I bite back a smile. "So, how did a nice girl from Forks learn to cook Italian food like this?"

He thinks I'm a nice girl?

I'm taking a moment to mull over the fact that I'm not quite sure if I actually want him to think of me that way, when I realize that he is, yet again, watching me with an expectant look on his face.

Shit…this is becoming a very bad habit, isn't it?

I make a point of continuing to chew a little bit longer so he thinks I'm just being polite and finishing my food before I talk. I wipe my mouth with a napkin, just for good measure, and to be sure that I'm not talking with cheese or sauce stuck to my face.

"When I was doing my undergrad at University of Washington, my roommate, Gianna, lived relatively close to campus and used to take me home with her all the time. Her grandmother was from Italy, and her family used to do these huge, amazing Sunday dinners with just tons of incredible authentic Italian food," I explain.

Gianna had a rather large extended family, and they would get together at least once a month for these wonderful traditional family dinners. They were noisy, chaotic, and filled with fighting, laughter, and course after course of some of the best food I've ever eaten. "It took a lot of begging, but I was eventually able to convince her grandmother to teach me how to make her sauce."

He chuckles softly, and it's a beautiful, almost melodic sound. "Somehow, I imagine you can be quite persuasive if you want to be."

I'm feeling myself get a bit warmer, and my brain seems to be jammed at the moment and can't come up with any kind of a witty reply. And believe me, it takes a lot to render me speechless. It's like he somehow disengages certain parts of my brain.

I decide it's a perfect time to clear the table. As I stand up, Edward stands with me and takes the containers from my hands, telling me he'll take care of them. He balks at the startled look on my face.

"What? Is it that difficult to believe that my mother really did raise me right?"

I bite my lip, because at this point in the game, I really don't know what to make of him anymore. So I smile and shake my head. "No. And thank you."

His face brightens as his lips lift into that wonderful asymmetrical grin. "No, thank you. That had to be the best meal I've had in ages. And, quite possibly, the best lasagna I've ever had." Gah…his expression is so sincere—it actually melts me…just a little…and suddenly _I'm _feeling all gooey in the middle and crispy around the edges.

Thank heaven my rational side kicks in before the prepubescent fangirl takes over.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I reply softly, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible, and lift my head to look down at the brown shopping bag. "Now, it's your turn."

**XXX**

True to his word, Edward brought everything I'd need to practice suturing. He sets out a plethora of different sutures, several curved needles, a needle holder, forceps, and a well used suturing board, which looks like flesh-colored foam set in a square frame with several "cuts." He moves to my side of the table and sits down next to me, and he proceeds to review several different stitching methods, asking which particular ones I want to work on.

Even though I had quite a few opportunities to suture on my Emergency Medicine and Surgery rotations, it was nowhere near enough practice to make me comfortable with my level of skill. I want proficiency, and I need to get as much experience under my belt as possible before I'm off on my own in the real world.

He starts to demonstrate and explain a running subcuticular stitch, and I'm completely mesmerized yet again with the meticulousness and agility of his hands. He's making a complicated technique look deceptively easy, because it's obviously completely natural and effortless to him. I lean back a bit and let my eyes roam up to his face while he's immersed in his task, stealing a moment to appreciate his handsome profile, the perfect slope of his nose, and the light five o'clock shadow that now highlights his angular jaw line.

"How do you do that?" I hear myself blurt out. His hands stop and he looks at me, his brow creasing with curiosity. I immediately feel flustered and regret opening my mouth. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've worked with plenty of surgeons, and no one sutures the way you can. I'd expect it from a plastic surgeon, but not an ob/gyn."

He smiles and looks down, and if I'm not mistaken, his cheeks flush a bit.

Wow. That's a switch. Is it bad that I enjoying making him blush for a change?

"Practice, Swan. A whole lot of practice," he replies, and my eyes are drawn to his Adam's apple as he swallows. "I don't believe in doing anything half-assed. I'm going to specialize in gynecologic oncology, which involves a lot of surgery. And I'm operating on women. The last thing I'd want to do is leave a potentially ugly scar on a woman's body, when it just takes a little extra effort to close up a wound properly and get a better cosmetic result."

_Oh good God, I think I just swooned a little._

He definitely just killed the theory that he hates women, and I suddenly feel bad for mentally dressing this poor guy up in children's underwear and lingerie. This is the most I've heard him say about himself, and my brain suddenly floods with more questions I want to ask. But just as I'm about to open my mouth, a painfully familiar sound antagonizes my ears.

It's official. That fucking pager is possessed. And out to get me.

I sigh and lean back, watching his face as he checks the number. He glances up at me with a sly smirk as he returns the evil little object to his back pocket. "Okay, Swan, we got a live one. Think you can manage to stay conscious this time?"

I narrow my eyes at him and stand up, brushing nonexistent crumbs off my scrubs. I cock an eyebrow at him. "Bring it."

**XXX**

There were actually two deliveries going on back-to-back, which was exciting, if not a bit more hectic. This time, Edward allows me to be a little more involved, teaching me how to check the patient's progress, and having me write post-delivery notes. Both deliveries seemed to be a lot less…messy…than my first was, unless I'm just desensitized. Luckily, neither required episiotomies.

By the time we finish in labor and delivery, it's almost 10:00p.m. I'm wired on adrenaline and oddly not the least bit tired, so I ask Edward if he'd mind letting me practice with the suture equipment he brought.

"Have at it. That's what it's here for," he answers and sits next to me as I set everything up. I try to duplicate his subcuticular stitch, but I can feel his eyes on me. My nervousness goes straight to my hands, which are now trembling like leaves in the wind, making it infinitely more difficult to control the needle.

"You don't have to watch me, you know," I snap, feeling beyond embarrassed and realizing that I was only proving him right that I wouldn't be able to stitch without gouging myself. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

He chuckles and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. "Nope," he answers, enunciating his "p" the way I'd done to him my first night on call. He really does enjoy throwing things back in my face. I feel myself scowl, and I'm beyond irritated with myself that I let him affect me this way.

"Look, you're usually going to have other people around when you suture, or do any other procedure, for that matter. So if you can't control your tremor with just me around, how do you expect to be able to suture well with everyone in the OR watching?"

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ The stupid, pretty Jackass is right.

I sigh with resignation and look down at my hands. It bothers me that he picked up on my tremor, though I guess he'd have to be blind not to. He tilts his head toward me, drawing my eyes to his. His expression is surprisingly compassionate. "You're tired, which only makes a tremor worse. Maybe you should go get some sleep while you can. There's no telling what kind of night it's going to be."

I consider it for a moment but push the temptation to give up aside. I look down at the suturing board. "No, I'm fine," I insist. "You don't have to babysit me. I'm just going to work at it a bit longer. Is that okay?"

I look back up at him after a moment because he hasn't given me an answer, and I see a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Suit yourself," he finally answers, as he pushes himself away from the table and stands up. "I'm going for coffee. Want anything?"

I decline, and he grabs his lab coat off the chair and turns to leave. Hmm…maybe he is granting me some space after all? On a whim, I peek into my pocket to see what chocolate I have left.

"Dr. Cullen," I call softly, before he reaches the door.

He stops and turns to me. "You can call me Edward, you know," he corrects me, which causes that familiar but ridiculous flutter in my belly. I roll my eyes at myself.

"Edward," I say with emphasis, just for the chance to give his name a test drive. "Want a piece of chocolate?" I ask, offering two pieces of the miniature candies, a Krackel bar and a Mr. Goodbar in my hand.

He glances at them, and then looks me square in the eye. "Is that all you've got?"

"Yep," I reply simply, but a small smile sneaks across my lips.

I'm rewarded with my favorite asymmetrical grin. "Then I'll take them both."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight. I'm just playing.**

Hi, my name is Kikki7 and I have Obsessive Cullen Disorder. Anyone else out there afflicted?

So, do we still think he's a Jackass? I'm thinking I may need a new name for him, but it's too soon to start calling him Dr. Magic Fingers…for now ; )


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello out there! I really, really want to thank those of you who take the time to read, alert and review. You have no idea how much I love hearing from you : )**

**Thanks so much to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their amazing beta skills, and to the lovely Prettyflour for pre-reading. Okay, shutting up now.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 <strong>

"Let me see what you've done so far."

I'm so wrapped up in my suture tying that I don't even hear him return, and his voice actually makes me jump and gasp.

I take a deep breath, trying to settle down my now racing heart. "You can't just sneak up on people like that!" I chastise, but comply and let him see. He sits down next to me with his coffee, a smug smirk on his face, and he leans toward me as he inspects my work.

"Not bad," he remarks with a slow tilt of his head. "Your stitches are nice and even. You just have to be careful with the tension in your knots. You want to approximate your wound edges, not strangulate them."

I bite my lip and look back down at the suturing board. All I can think of right this moment, with him sitting close enough that if I just shifted my knee just an inch it would brush against his, is how badly I want to shift that inch and invade his personal space…

_Oh, the things I could do to that personal space._

I steal a glimpse at him sideways through my lashes, and I'm startled to find that he's looking right back at me. I swallow thickly. My eyes dart quickly back down to my work, because suddenly I feel ridiculously warm, and my throat feels like sawdust. I'm now acutely aware of how quiet it is in the room, and my heart is now beating so loudly that I actually worry if he could possibly hear it.

"I'm going to get some water," I hear myself say, and I ever-so-awkwardly bounce up out of my seat and accost the water cooler on the other side of the room. I take a few sips, letting the cold liquid soothe the dryness in my throat while I try to clear my head.

The silence in the room is starting to unnerve me. Normally I don't mind it, but I feel a strange tension in the air. So my mouth decides to do something about it.

"So, um, you mentioned that you're specializing in gynecologic oncology?" I ask, figuring it's safe territory. I have no desire to mention anything about Forks again, given his bizarre reaction last time.

He leans back in his chair a bit and takes a swig of his coffee. "I start my fellowship at NYU in July."

"Wow," I muse out loud. "That's a hell of a lot of training." The length of medical school and residency was one of the reasons, among others, I chose to become a physician assistant instead of a doctor. That means he's tacking on an additional three years of training. I can't even fathom that. "Is that what you always planned to do? Or did you just decide that looking at vaginas all day and delivering babies in the middle of the night wasn't all it was cracked up to be?"

Damn…that came out sounding a lot more crass than I'd intended. Filter malfunction much? But judging by the amused expression on his face, he doesn't seem to be offended. I draw in a quick sigh of relief.

"Actually, it is what I originally intended," he answers with a half smile. "During medical school, I was interested in both Surgery and Obstetrics. I loved the fact that ob/gyn would give me the opportunity to do both, but…" He pauses for a moment, and I get the distinct impression that he's filtering. He studies me for a moment, and he looks as if he's trying to make a decision. He finally sighs and shifts in his seat. "During my second year of med school, my grandmother was diagnosed with a recurrence of breast cancer. My father convinced my mother that she should get BRCA tested. Are you familiar with BRCA testing?"

I nod my head. "I have a general idea. It was mentioned in class, but they didn't go into a lot of detail. Isn't it a blood test that can detect a gene mutation linked with an increased risk for breast cancer?" I move to the couch and settle in, wanting to be closer while we talk, but not close enough to let his damn pheromone voodoo affect me.

"That's exactly right. Well, as it turned out, my mother tested positive for the BRCA gene. Which meant she had a dangerously high chance of developing breast or ovarian cancer in the course of her lifetime."

"Oh my God, that's horrible," I gasp in disbelief. How on earth is someone supposed to process that kind of information? "So what happened?"

He leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, clasping his hands. "My father extensively researched all the options available, and to make a long story short, my mother opted to get her ovaries removed since that would dramatically decrease her risk of both cancers.

"It turned out to be the best decision she could have made. When they removed her ovaries, they actually found out she already had stage one ovarian cancer."

My mouth falls agape, and my heart clenches. I can see all over his face how difficult this must have been for his family to go through.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Of course, I didn't find out about any of this until she completed her treatment. My parents didn't want to worry me while I was in school." He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. Guilt and regret are written all over his face, and something inside me wants to say something, to comfort him, but it doesn't seem appropriate. Instead, I wait patiently for him to finish his story.

"That sparked my interest in gynecologic oncology. I guess you could say the rest is history," he finishes with a shrug.

"What about you? I know you said you're keeping your options open, but I'm sure by now you must have some idea what specialties interest you," he prods.

I look down at my hands and repress the urge to fidget. I don't want to lie to him, but I don't want to admit that I am already committed to Pediatrics. He only asked what interests me, so I could honestly answer that. "I definitely enjoy Surgery. It's fascinating." _Especially when he's performing it._ "I also like Emergency Medicine, Critical Care, Orthopedics, Pediatrics…I would say I like just about everything, as long as it doesn't involve prostates." I hear the words as they spew from my mouth, and I internally cringe. That was completely unnecessary information. Fucking filter failure strikes again.

He actually laughs. God, what a wonderful sound. It makes me smile. "Yeah, can't say I blame you. Obviously, my choice of specialty exempts me from that as well. But you seriously haven't narrowed down any preferences?"

I'm wondering how I want to answer, when much to my surprise, the sound that usually fills me with irritation and dread actually fills me with relief as his pager goes off.

Ha! One point for Bella on the pager scorecard.

He keeps his eyes on me as he shifts to retrieve it from his pocket. I glance at my watch and see that it's already almost midnight.

"Well, it doesn't look like you're going to get a lot of sleep tonight, Swan." He rises from his chair and grabs his lab coat. I do the same. "Time to head back over to L&D."

**XXX**

When we arrive at the Labor and Delivery floor, we learn that the patient, Emily Young, scheduled for a routine Cesarean section next week due to a breech presentation, but she went into labor early. This will be my first C-section, and I'm extremely excited to see what it's like.

I watch the anesthesiologist give the patient a spinal block, which he explains will make her numb from the chest down. Edward tells me to scrub with him once the patient is all set up.

"So, Mrs. Young, what happened? I thought we had a date set up next week," Edward addresses her through the sterile drape that creates a barrier between us. I'm wondering if she's one of his patients from the clinic.

"Oh, you know me, Dr. Cullen. I have to do everything the hard way." She laughs and goes on to explain that she and her husband had just come back from dinner and a play in the city, when her water broke on the subway. Ugh. Now that's a visual I didn't need.

This is completely surreal to me. Edward is slicing this woman's uterus open, just above her pubic bone, and she's chatting with him about the play like they're hanging out at a coffee shop or something.

Edward goes through the motions of the procedure as if he were doing something mundane and routine like tying his shoes, conversing lightly with the couple behind the sterile curtain. When he reaches the baby, he delves into her abdomen and pulls out the cramped-up miniature human, lifting it from her body. I watch with unadulterated wonder as this tiny being unfurls its body and takes its very first breath of air, letting out a loud scream as his lungs come to life. I feel that familiar lump of emotion in my throat as the nurse takes the newborn baby boy, wraps him up, and vigorously cleans him off.

"The baby is perfect," Edward praises with that proud smile on his face. I hear gasps and murmurs behind the drape, and my heart swells a bit. "Mr. Young, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

"Umm, no thanks. I think I'll pass," he answers, and Mrs. Young laughs.

"Are you kidding? He passed out the first time he watched them draw my blood in the clinic."

Edward's eyes meet mine. "How about you, Bella?" He hands me a large surgical scissor, and I'm ridiculously thrilled to be given this minor contribution. I smile at him with gratitude.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Edward offers once I've severed the cord. My eyes widen as the nurse places this brand spanking new life into my arms, and he nods his head in the direction of the waiting new parents on the other side of the drape. Excitement and endorphins course through my veins as I bring the baby to the anxiously awaiting parents. They're both smiling, and I place the child in his mother's waiting arms, my heart bursting with pride and exhilaration that I'm granted this amazing gift of being the first to introduce the new parents to their son.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Young," I gush enthusiastically. "It's a boy!"

They both beam and nod. "Yeah, we know."

_Oh._

Well, that was…anticlimactic.

The lump of emotion slides down my throat and virtually disappears, and for some strange reason, my endorphin high just falls flat without so much as a thud. I look over at Edward, and he quickly looks back down at the incision he's carefully closing up, that now familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

**XXX**

I finish helping clean up and transfer the patient to recovery while Edward writes his post-delivery notes, and it's almost 2:00 a.m. by the time we finally make it back to the residents' lounge. The long day has caught up with me, and I'm completely drained and exhausted. But before I allow myself to succumb to sleep, I quickly jot down some notes on the patients I saw tonight, so I'll be able to present them easily during morning rounds with Dr. Pencildick Baker. After seeing how he treated Alice after her busy night on call, I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"Go to bed, Swan," Edward tells me firmly, and I look up to find him glaring at me with a stern frown.

"I will. I'm just finishing some notes," I mutter.

He sits across from me at the table. "Go get some sleep," he repeats, his tone gentler. I let my eyes meet his, and I wonder if my face looks as fatigued as his does. "You did really well tonight."

My cheeks get warm, and I feel my lips twitch into a small smile. "Thanks." I draw in a breath and try to just…enjoy the moment.

He rises from the table, begins to collect all the suturing equipment and places it back in the paper bag. I stand and help him. "Could you possibly bring this stuff back next time?" I ask, hopeful.

He shrugs. "Why don't you take it with you and just bring it back next call night."

My eyes light up at his generosity. "Really? The hospital would allow that?"

He turns to go to his call room. "Doesn't matter. It's all mine." He glances back at me over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Swan."

When I finally let my pooped-out body sink into the hard bed in my call room, thin, scratchy sheets and flat, lumpy pillows never seemed so welcoming.

Morning arrives all too soon, and it takes an inordinate amount of effort to haul my ass out of bed. The shower feels incredible as I let the scalding hot water revive my muscles and wash away my fatigue. But as I spread the lather around my body, images of lush green eyes, an asymmetrical smile, and long, elegant fingers replacing my own raid my thoughts, eliciting an unexpected and rather uncomfortable ache down below…

_Fuck_…like this is what I really need before my faceoff with Dr. Baker.

I turn the shower to cold and rinse the unbidden ridiculousness down the drain.

**XXX**

I am feeling inordinately antsy as I wait with Alice and Jasper for Dr. Baker's arrival. Alice asks about my night on call, but all I can manage are brief, clipped responses. I can't seem to focus on anything but presenting my cases this morning and inwardly castigate myself for being so nervous. I reviewed my notes. I couldn't be more prepared. But I'm tired, hungry, and feeling something else that I don't care to be distracted with at this moment.

Dr. Baker arrives with a smile at exactly 5:59a.m. "Good morning, boys and girls," he greets us buoyantly. I'm immediately irked by his obvious good mood. "Miss Swan, I understand you had a busier night this time. I'm looking forward to hearing about your cases."

Translation_: I know you were busy and had a late night. I'm anxious to see if you can present this morning on limited sleep without falling flat on your face._

I cast my gaze quickly between Alice and Jasper, trying to soothe my haywire nerves, and shove my hands in my pockets so the insane trembling won't be visible. I look Dr. Baker square in the eye, dying to get this moment over with, and open my mouth to begin.

Yet nothing comes out.

My mind goes completely…absolutely…_blank._

I start searching frantically for the information that was just _right there_ moments ago. I'm rooting around my cerebral cortex, pushing past other useless information and visuals, hoping—no, praying—something will finally kick in.

I feel my eyes widen as I watch the expression on Dr. Baker's face morph from an expectant smile to more of a sinister sneer. I know he smells blood, and now I can hear my own buzzing in my ears. He waits a beat and then decides it's time to go in for the kill. "Miss Swan…"

And hallelujah, that's all I needed.

"Mrs. Young is a 24-year-old gravida one, para zero female who presented at 38 weeks with premature rupture of membranes and known breech presentation…"

I proceed to rattle off my presentation fluidly without so much as a hesitation, the adrenaline coursing through my veins and urging me on as I purge the information like I'm on a mission from God. By the time I finish presenting my last patient, I feel like I've just run a marathon, and all I want to do is suck down a gallon of water. I look over at Alice, who is beaming at me like a proud mommy, and I suck in a breath as I return my gaze to Dr. Baker.

His lip quirks into a small smirk, and he gives me a slow nod of his head. "Nice save, Miss Swan. You had me worried there for a second." He proceeds to hand us our patient assignments and reminds us about Grand Rounds. I release a long, loud sigh as he leaves.

"Christ on a stick, I need a fucking drink," I mutter, and Jasper chuckles.

"Kiss-ass," he teases, and pokes me in the rib with his elbow.

"Hardly," I mutter. "I just had visions of being transferred to STD clinic for the rest of the rotation. Amazing how motivating that can be." My stomach rumbles to remind me how neglected it feels. "Listen, I want to get through my patients fast so I have time to get a bagel before Grand Rounds. See you there."

**XXX**

I make it to the auditorium with my second-rate cafeteria bagel with only a few minutes to spare. I take my seat next to Alice, who is leaning close to Jasper in an intimate discussion. I roll my eyes as I sit down. "Will you just get a room already?" I hiss as I take my seat.

She just gives me a wicked smile. "Workin' on it," she retorts, and she leans back in her chair as the lights dim and the lecture starts.

Nooo…dim lights…captivating lecture about menopause…eyelids so, so heavy…

I scoot myself upright in my seat and stuff a piece of bagel into my mouth. I chew with renewed vigor as I try to revive myself and at that moment, wish I could drink coffee.

I find my eyes wandering around the room of their own volition, and I'm not the least bit surprised when they land themselves on a set of broad shoulders and the back of a wildly disarranged head of hair. How pathetic. It seems that I have built-in Edward radar, no doubt directly wired to the horny ovaries. I let out a long, girlie sigh as I admire his profile and watch as he shifts in his chair a bit. I reflexively shift in my own seat, stealing a glance at Alice, making sure I'm not caught this time around. But she's leaning in and murmuring to Jasper, so I know she's well occupied and I'm in the clear. I pop another small piece of my bagel into my mouth and let my eyes return to their preferred destination. But when they reach it, I almost choke on my breakfast.

Because the last thing I expect when I peek back is to find Edward peering right back at me. Now my eyes are paralyzed like a deer caught in the headlights, locked with his intense gaze.

The bagel almost gets stuck in my throat as I swallow it so quickly it actually hurts. I want so desperately to look away, but I can't. An invisible force keeps my eyes glued to his…probably only seconds go by, but it feels like an eternity. I watch his face—which is totally unapologetic for so brazenly holding me hostage like this—as his lips twitch and lift up on one side into the most arresting, seductive, lip-licking smile I have ever seen.

_Holy fuck. _

Well, smack my ass and call me Sally. I now completely understand the term "panty dropping."

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><p><strong>We all know SM owns Twilight and everything to do with it, right?<strong>

****A/N:** **If anyone is interested in learning more about BRCA testing, or if you're a candidate for it, I'm posting a link on my profile. Or please feel free to PM me with any questions.

Oh, and yeah, I totally stole "Christ on a stick" from algonquinrt. **Mr. Horrible** is a fucking epic story with some of the best one-liners ever. My imitation is meant to be the highest form of flattery ; )


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey there! I hope this chapter will clear up a few things. Many thanks to my lovely betas, mcc101180 and Love of Escapism, and to Prettyflour for her mad pre-reading skills.**

**Pennyloafer and Beccagold, I love you guys to death.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

**EPOV**

Great. Yet another fascinating lecture about menopause. That will certainly help to keep me awake this morning.

I settle into a chair close to an exit door and take a large sip of the crappy coffee from the hospital's hole-in-the-wall café. I usually avoid it at all costs, but this morning's rounds ran a little late, and crappy coffee is better than no coffee.

Man, do I feel like shit.

Most likely because I slept like shit.

It isn't unusual for me not to sleep much on a call night. I'm used to chronic sleep deprivation by now, as I usually have a hard time winding down after a busy night. It's difficult for me to shut my brain off, and I have a tendency to rehash the cases and patients of the day, especially if there was a particularly interesting or unusual one.

But that wasn't the issue last night.

I was more than willing to put the relatively routine day to rest and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, _she_ was there.

I was impressed with her obvious zeal and dedication to learn, and I enjoyed the way her face would light up when I let her try something new. But there was something more…the way she bit her full lower lip while she was concentrating on something; the subtle, fresh smell of her skin—or was it her hair? Sitting with her while I helped with her suturing proved to be a form of delicious torture, as her scent teased and taunted me, giving me an unsettling urge to bury my nose in her neck. She was slowly driving me to serious distraction.

I let my eyes idly wander around the auditorium as the lights dim and the lecture starts. I double-check every head of long brown hair until I finally identify Bella Swan's unmistakable mahogany hair tied up in her signature ponytail. I allow myself to wonder what that hair would look like falling loose about her shoulders and think about how the strands would feel between my fingers. I admire the curve of her long, graceful neck as it disappears into her lab jacket. Her face is turned away from me, and I lean my head a bit to try to get a better view. My eyes meander back up her throat, and they linger appreciatively on her full lips as I watch her place a piece of food in her mouth…but then she unexpectedly turns her head and looks directly at me.

I'm completely caught off guard until I see the sheer surprise on her face, her large eyes wide, and for a moment I'm concerned that she'll choke on her food. I see her swallow heavily, and she doesn't just look startled, she looks…embarrassed? Guilty even?

It takes me a moment to process as I continue to lock gazes with her, when the realization hits me that she's embarrassed that _she_ was caught looking at _me_.

A smile sneaks across my face, and in response, her lips part in the most beguiling way, causing a Pavlov reaction down below that makes me grateful that I'm wearing loose scrubs.

_Thank God for lab coats._

She looks away first, breaking the connection, and I'm actually relieved but disappointed at the same time. I draw a deep breath and force my attention back to the presentation, completely bemused by what just happened.

**XXX **

I'm grateful to have the rest of the day off and sleep like the dead for a good four hours as soon as I get back to my apartment. I wake up ravenous and scour the fridge. All I find that is edible is some leftover Thai takeout from the weekend. I open it and sniff it, and with unenthusiastic resignation, I sit down at my kitchen counter and eat it cold out of the container.

What I wouldn't give for some more of Bella's fucking stellar lasagna from last night.

I can't even remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, and I definitely can't recall one _that _good. I think back to how she watched me taste it with that hopeful expression on her face. It was kind of…sweet.

_Fuck_. Now I can't even eat without her popping into my head.

I finish my lackluster lunch quickly and decide I'm due for a good workout. That's one of the things I love about living here; I have pretty much anything I could possibly want within walking distance—including a small, local gym that has a great boxing program. A little bit of self-abuse should be just what I need to clear my head and get back on track.

**XXX**

Thursday morning is filled with routine cases, mostly laparoscopies and one D&C. I try to make an effort to involve Bella wherever I can, allowing her to suction while I cauterize, hold retractors, and ask her to identify relevant anatomy. I know she enjoys being challenged, and I find her enthusiasm infectious, which in turn makes me want to give her more responsibilities. As I close up the last laparoscopy incision of the morning, I pause to look up at her, noting how intensely she watches my hands while I suture. In a spur of the moment decision, I decide she's ready.

"Swan, finish these last few stitches for me." I look up as I hand the needle holder over to her and watch as excitement and gratitude light up those impossibly deep brown eyes, and a warmth radiates from her that makes me wish I could see the rest of her face.

I watch patiently as she begins to suture with trembling hands, surprised to see that despite their unsteadiness, she is still able to place her stitches with remarkable accuracy. Though it may take her a little extra time, she accomplishes a first-rate result. I tell her so, and the way she beams at me as she thanks me causes a strange stir of emotion within me that takes me by surprise. I briefly consider asking her to join me for lunch, but think better of it, and tell her to meet back in the OR at 1:00 p.m.

"Hey, bro. You goin' to the deli?" Emmett comes up behind me as I'm grabbing a water bottle from my locker.

"Planned to. You have anything else in mind?"

"Nah. I gotta make it quick and get back to L&D. It's pretty busy today."

We walk across the street to the deli, and I get my usual turkey and swiss hero. Emmett gets an overstuffed Italian hero and a large bag of potato chips, and I can feel my arteries clogging just by watching him eat it. The guy is a human garbage disposal.

"So, how are things goin' with the Swan chick?" he asks right before he takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Fine. She's a good student."

Emmett just smirks. "I'm sure she is," he quips suggestively. I feel my jaw tighten, but I'm not going to play along. "Alice is a sharp one, too. I get a big kick out of her. Has a mouth like a truck driver and is funny as hell. She lives with Bella, you know. She talks about her all the time."

Fucking assclown. He's about as subtle as a flying brick. Does he really expect me to jump all over him and ask what he's heard about Bella? I just nod and take another bite.

"I hear Newton's got a thing for her," Emmett continues.

I really don't care. So why do I open my mouth? "For who, Alice?"

"No, Bella. He was telling Tyler how he couldn't wait to 'tap that ass.'"

I snort. "Yeah, right. Like he'd ever have a chance." Fucking tool bag. I aggressively take a big bite of my food to keep myself from saying something stupid.

Emmett raises his eyebrows. "Why not? I don't get the impression from Alice that she's seeing anyone."

The thought of her with Newton makes me want to punch something. _Preferably, his face_. You just don't talk that kind of shit about a girl like Bella. I continue to take my hostility out on my sandwich and realize that it's quiet…something that's a rare occurrence around Emmett. I glance up to find him staring at me with a smug expression.

"Shut the fuck up, Emmett. Since when did you turn into a fucking gossip girl?"

He snickers, and I want to wipe those goofy fucking dimples right off his face. He stuffs the remainder of his hero into his mouth and washes it down with his soda.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

_Thank God for the subject change._

I hadn't really thought about it. "No plans, really. You?"

"I'm thinking about going to Tara's Saturday night to watch the Yankees game. Interested?"

Tara's Inn is a low-key local bar that has really good food, and it's a popular hangout for the hospital staff. Emmett and I used to go after work pretty regularly until both our schedules got more demanding. It's been a while, and I definitely needed to get out.

"Count me in."

**XXX**

I continue to let Bella suture a bit for the remainder of the day, and I notice her hands get a little steadier the more she practices. As I watch her work, I can't help but wonder if she's chewing on her lip under her mask. The thought makes me smile.

"You seem to be getting the hang of things," I tell her as we finish the last case of the day. I take my cap off and ruffle my fingers through my hair. Bella gives me a shy smile with just the slightest hint of color gracing her pretty cheekbones.

"Thanks," she answers softly. She's obviously not very comfortable with compliments. "And, um…thanks for letting me. You know, suture. I really appreciate it." The color on her face deepens curiously. I want to touch her cheek and see how warm it feels. I clench the surgical cap in my hand and stuff it into my pocket.

"No problem. You earned it." I feel the right corner of my mouth lift into a smile, and she responds with a small, sweet smile in return. I love the way it illuminates her face.

"Well, see you tomorrow," she finally says, and I watch her put on her lab jacket. It then occurs to me that we're going to be back on call together tomorrow night.

"Don't forget to bring back my suture board," I remind her. "And I'm looking forward to whatever you're bringing for dinner." She has no idea how much I'm looking forward to it.

That earns me another smile. I decide to press my luck a bit. "Got any chocolate left, Swan?"

Her smile broadens, and she looks in her pocket. She retrieves two milk chocolate minis and offers them in an outstretched hand. I take them both from her, holding her deep cinnamon eyes to mine, and gently brush her delicate fingertips as I retrieve the candy. That elicits a soft gasp from her parted lips, and I turn to go before I do something completely inappropriate.

I can't stop myself from replaying the events of the day in my head as I drive home, though none of them have anything to do with any of the day's cases. I then realize that for possibly the first time ever, I can't wait to be on call.

**XXX**

Friday's caseload is heavier than usual, but the day seems to fly by. Bella has really integrated herself well into the surgical team, and I'm sorry that this will be her last day in the OR. I love the fact that I only need to tell her something once and she takes it from there, now anticipating what I need during cases. She's a pleasure to work with overall, and I like how she treats the patients as well. She has a kind, gentle bedside manner that I think will serve her well. I make sure to let her do as much as possible today, and I'm pleased to see how well her suturing skills are progressing. She seems to be getting more control over her tremor as she gets more comfortable.

By the end of the day, I'm dying to get to the residents' lounge and find out what Bella brought for dinner. She's already there when I arrive, standing next to the microwave with her back to me. I take a moment to admire the subtle curve of her ass before I make my presence known by pulling out a chair to sit down.

I rub my hands together. "What's for dinner, dear?" I tease. The fucking amazing aroma filling the lounge is making me salivate.

"I hope you like macaroni and cheese." What, like boxed Kraft mac and cheese? My hopes sink for a moment until I see the two plastic containers she places on the table. Suddenly, I feel like I've hit the jackpot.

"Is this actually homemade?" I quickly grab my fork and take a large mouthful of the rich, creamy pasta. I think my eyes actually roll back in my head because it tastes so fucking good.

"Why do you keep asking me that? Do you think I have a personal chef or something?" Her words throw me off guard, but her tone is teasing.

"What? No…it's just that I can honestly say that I've never had homemade macaroni and cheese before. I never realized what a lacking existence I led." Why do I feel like I'm always apologizing to this girl?

She just grins, and we eat our dinners in a surprisingly comfortable silence. I almost feel guilty for wolfing my food down so quickly, but she looks pleased. I wonder if she'd care if I licked the container clean.

I lean back in my chair and rub my full belly with a lazy, satisfied grin. "That was fucking awesome," I tell her. "But I feel a little guilty for liking it so much. I was so head over heels for your lasagna, and now I feel like I'm cheating on it."

She laughs at me. "You know, that has to be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard. But I'll take it as a compliment."

I stand quickly to pick up the containers before she can start to clear them. She thanks me softly, then her eyes widen, and she raises her eyebrows. "Oh! I almost forgot."

I watch her curiously as she gets up and takes something out of her messenger bag. She pulls out my brown bag with all the suturing equipment and another plastic storage container. I crane my neck to try to see what's inside it as she brings it to the table.

"I made dessert." She proceeds to set the container down in front of me and opens it. I peek inside and see several large brownies. My jaw goes slack, and I try not to drool on the table. "And before you ask, yes, they're homemade."

_I want to fucking jump over the table and kiss the shit out of her. _

"They're double fudge brownies. With dark chocolate chips."

_Fuck that. I want to marry this girl_. She peers at me through her lashes, and I'm so fucking done.

"Bella, I—" I don't even know what I'm about to say, but luckily my pager cuts me off. I watch her face fall as I reach into my back pocket and check the number. "There's a case in the ER," I say, and it sounds like another apology to my ears. I just put on my lab coat, and she follows me to the Emergency Room in silence.

I stop at the nurses' station and ask who paged me. I cringe when I see that it's Jane Elson. She's not even remotely subtle in her flirtation with me and doesn't get the hint that I'm not even remotely interested. I sigh with resignation and ask her what she's got for me.

She hands me a chart. "Hi, Edward," she coos in a saccharine-sweet voice. "I feel like I never see you anymore."

As if she ever saw me much to begin with. "What's going on?"

"We've got a thirty-one year old with left lower quadrant abdominal pain. The pelvic sono showed a five-centimeter ovarian cyst with normal blood flow and no evidence of torsion. She's been screaming for pain meds since she's gotten here. I'm sorry to bother you, I'm sure she's just a typical drug-seeker." She huffs and rolls her eyes. "But you know, protocol and all."

"Was a pregnancy test done?"

"It was negative."

I just nod as I scan through the chart. She was seen at the clinic one month ago with similar symptoms, was found to have a four-centimeter left ovarian cyst, and was placed on oral contraceptives. I go over the case with Bella and take her with me to evaluate the patient.

"Hello, Miss Murphy? I'm Dr. Cullen, one of the ob/gyn residents," I greet her. She's lying on her side in a fetal position. She has a pretty, round face covered with light freckles. Her makeup is smudged under her eyes from crying. I get a sick feeling in my gut and offer her my hand.

"Oh, God, please tell me you're here to do something about the pain," she pleads. "That fucking bitch nurse won't give me anything." I fight back a smile. She's right. Jane is a bitch.

"I may be able to help you with that, but I'm going to need to examine you first," I tell her, and gently help her move to her back. She's in obvious discomfort, and she lets out a yelp when I gently palpate her abdomen. She has guarding and pinpoint tenderness in the left lower quadrant.

I take a little more history from her and find out that the pain hit her suddenly about three hours ago, and it was becoming progressively worse. The more I hear, the stronger that nagging feeling in my gut becomes.

I review the sonogram with Bella and point out the cyst and the adequate blood flow. "If the cyst was twisting, it cuts off the blood supply. The sono shows normal blood flow to the ovary, but it's possible that there could be intermittent torsion," I explain to the patient, but also for Bella's benefit as well. I replay the sono one more time, looking for something that I could have overlooked, but see nothing.

I tell Bella to stay with the patient while I go back to the nurses' station. I find Kate Simon, another ER nurse who I find far more tolerable.

"Hey, Kate. Could you tell me who the ob/gyn attending on call tonight is?" _Please don't be Baker. _The guy is a fucking idiot and will blow the case off because he won't want to come in.

"Sure, hang on a sec." She smiles at me as she checks the computer. "Looks like it's Dr. Garvey."

_Perfect_. "Could you page him for me? And could you please have someone give Miss Murphy some pain meds? I'll write an order for Morphine."

Dr. Garvey calls back ten minutes later. "Sorry to bother you, Marcus, but I think I need you." I present the case to him, including the sono results. "I wanted your opinion, because something just isn't sitting right. She's presenting like a classic ovarian torsion, and I just wonder if it's intermittent and they didn't catch it on sono. I want to take a look."

"I trust your judgment, Edward. If you think you need to take her to the OR, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I sigh in relief. "Thanks, Marcus. I'll see you then."

**XXX**

"Well, Edward, I think we've found our answer." After prepping the patient for an emergency laparoscopy, we discover that Miss Murphy has normal blood flow to a completely normal, cyst-free ovary. Marcus does, however, find a five-centimeter cyst with torsion of her left fallopian tube.

Now _that's_ something you don't see every day.

"That was a lucky call," Marcus tells me. "That fallopian tube would have been necrotic if we waited until tomorrow, and it would have needed to be removed."

And with that, I suddenly feel like a fucking superhero.

**XXX**

"That had to be the coolest case I've ever seen," Bella gushes as we finally get back to the lounge. "I've never even heard of a fallopian tube cyst. They aren't that common, are they?"

"No, not at all. That's actually the first one I've ever seen," I answer honestly. "Marcus wants to present it in Grand Rounds next week."

The look she gives me at that moment makes me feel like a superhero _and _a rock star. "You know, you saved that woman's fallopian tube," she murmurs. "That really was an impressive call on your part."

This girl is fucking killing me slowly.

I give her a wicked grin. "Then, maybe it will make up for the fact that I'm about to kill an entire container of innocent brownies."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Good luck with that." She laughs. "You'll have one hell of a chocolate hangover if you do."

I snatch the container of brownies off the table and plop myself down on the couch with them. "They're all for me, right?"

A sly smirk plays across Bella's lips, and she cocks her eyebrow at me. "I believe you were the one who told me that sharing is caring."

I raise my eyebrows back at her. "And _I _seem to recall that you _still_ refuse to give me any of your dark chocolate in spite of it."

She gives me a pointed look. "And _I_ recall explaining that you didn't deserve dark chocolate at the time. _And_ you were staring at my dinner like a poorly trained puppy dog."

"What? Haven't I deserved to earn dark chocolate status by this point? Haven't I redeemed myself?" God, I am so fucking mature.

She tilts her head to the side and curls her feet under her on the chair next to me. "Did I not mention the brownies had dark chocolate chips?"

_Touché._

"Well, if I'm going to put myself in a diabetic coma, I may as well take you down with me." I hold the container out to her. She thanks me and rolls her eyes as she takes one.

I pick up a brownie and take a bite. It's rich, chewy, and an all-around dense block of chocolate sin. I never eat this kind of shit, and I can't even recall the last time I had a brownie. Or macaroni and cheese, for that matter. I have a feeling I'm going to be hurting big time tomorrow. I take another bite… _So fucking worth it. _I'll pay my dues at the gym.

"Oh my God, I think you may be the gastronomic Antichrist," I say. "Are these things even legal?"

She giggles. "I prefer 'culinary goddess,' thank you very much. And yes, I promise they are legal. I even have a permit."

I shake my head as I grin at her, and I watch with a bit too much interest as she licks chocolate off her fingers, completely unaware of what she's doing to me.

_Fuck. Me_.

_You don't shit where you eat, Cullen. And it's definitely not a bright idea to shit anywhere near Chief Swan._

I definitely need some air. I decide it's a perfect time for a Starbucks run, and I ask her if she wants anything. She declines and has a puzzled look on her face.

Ah, Bella…if I could only explain.

**XXX**

I return from Starbucks with a chai tea latte for her. I'm pretty sure she doesn't drink coffee, and I just felt like I should bring her something. When I get back to the lounge, I see that Bella has fallen asleep on the chair with a book in her lap.

I quietly sit down on the couch and steal the opportunity to take a good look at her. Her lips are slightly parted, and she looks so peaceful, so young. She really is an exceptionally pretty girl, with a heart-shaped face and high cheekbones, a bottom lip that is noticeably fuller than her top lip, and a light smattering of freckles across her delicate nose. She has a few wisps of hair in her face that have come loose from her ponytail, and I'm dying to smooth them away from her face.

She shifts her head, and then softly mumbles. "Salt."

What?

"Butter…"

I stifle a laugh. Bella talks in her sleep? This is too goddamn cute…

"…Lemon. Definitely needs more lemon."

What is she doing—cooking? I wait a few minutes to see if she'll say anything more, but my pager has other plans and starts to go off. The sound wakes Bella with a jolt, and I watch with amusement as she wakes up, disoriented.

I check the number and see that it's L&D. "Come on, Bella," I say with a sigh. "Time to go."

**XXX**

The remainder of the night is quiet and uneventful. Bella practices suturing, and I read journal articles on my laptop. She seemed to really like the chai latte, so that was a good call. When I realize it's a little past midnight, I decide to call it a night and tell her I'll page her if anything is going on.

I find it nearly impossible to fall asleep. The girl is getting under my skin, and I have no idea what to do about it.

Even if she _wasn't_ Chief Swan's daughter, it was pointless to pursue anything with her. She admitted that she planned on going back to Washington after graduation, which was barely three months away. I was starting a fellowship in New York for the next three years. And I don't see her as the casual "fling" type.

_But_…

I toss and turn with that nagging "but"just loitering in my head, until I finally succumb to a restless sleep.

The following morning, I feel no closer to a resolution. But when I'm in the lounge getting my things to go home, who should happen to walk in but Bella Swan.

"Heading home?" I ask, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

"Finally," she answers, and I see slight shadows under her eyes. She looks tired.

I realize that I will no longer be working with her in the OR, and the only time I'll be seeing her is on call nights. The thought saddens me. I think about the meals she brought in for me, and the fact that she actually made homemade brownies. _For me_. I should return the favor somehow, shouldn't I? That would be appropriate, right?

"You know, there's a really good diner down the street from here. I was kind of in the mood for one of their omelets this morning. Care to join me? My treat?"

She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and answers with a shy smile. "Sure. I'd love to."

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><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight, of course.**

**Heehee...yes, I know. It definitely needs more lemons ; ) But I need a few more seasonings in there first.**

****I gotta take a second to thank all of you who review, alert and rec this silly little story of mine. I can't tell you how much I appreciate each and every one of you, and how much I love to hear from you. And special thanks to IllicitWriter for too many reasons to list. I just have no words : ) ****

****See you guys at the diner!****


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey there! Gynoman and the Gastronomical Antichrist (thanks for that one, Fernn!) are back.**

**Never ending gratitude to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their incredible beta skills and to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, and Prettyflour for prereading. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

The diner is a short walk, maybe four blocks away from the hospital. I had been pretty tired and was looking forward to going home and going back to bed for a few hours, but Edward's offer to take me out for breakfast hit me out of left field, and I heard myself accept before my brain even got the chance to process it properly. I was now in overdrive, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to be spending time with Dr. Not-So-Much-of-a-Jackass away from the hospital.

Now, since the aforementioned unreliable brain actually decided to join the party, it was having a sit-down with the ovaries and trying to explain that this was not—by _any_ stretch of the imagination—a date. So there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the ridiculous nervous fluttering in my gut.

Stupid_, stupid_ girl.

The small cafe is actually very quaint and reminiscent of those 50s-style diners. It's rather crowded already, and we're seated in a small booth in the back. I take in the mixture of enticing smells and check out the different dishes that waitresses carry by our table. As soon as I get the menu, I go directly to the pancake section and look for my favorite diner food.

"Have you ever had the pancakes here?" I ask Edward, looking up from my menu.

His menu lays closed in front of him. "Sorry, can't say I have. I stick to the omelets."

Egg whites, I'm sure. I'll bet any amount of money on it.

I see blueberry pancakes on the menu, but before I get too excited about it, I make sure I ask the waitress about them when she comes by to take our order.

"Excuse me," I ask the middle-aged woman with too much makeup and over-dyed brown hair, "Do the blueberry pancakes have blueberries inside the pancakes, or blueberry preserves on top?"

Yeah, I know. I'm one of those people. But I can't help it. I absolutely _love_ blueberry pancakes, but not if they have that artificial pie-filling crap on them.

The waitress remains unfazed. "We have both."

I do a little internal happy squeal. "Can I get a short stack of blueberry pancakes then? Blueberries inside and no preserves please?" I ask, making sure I am crystal clear to avoid any confusion. I turn my eyes to Edward, who has that amused smirk on his face. It makes me feel self-conscious, and I have the urge to smack it off.

I quirk my eyebrow at him, effectually daring him to make a comment, and he just gives me that smug grin and then directs his attention to the waitress. He proceeds to order a vegetable omelet with Swiss cheese.

With egg whites, of course.

Once the waitress leaves with our order, Edward leans forward, resting on his folded forearms on the table. "I'm starting to get the impression you're very passionate about food."

I raise my eyebrows and cock my head to the side. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all." He chuckles at my defensiveness. "I have to admit, I like a girl who actually enjoys food."

Maybe I'm being oversensitive, but I'm not quite sure how to take that. I guess I am a little food-obsessed…

He must sense my unease, and he looks away while rubbing the back of his neck. "I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong things to you," he finally says with a wry grin.

I smile sheepishly and look down at the table. "Well, maybe I just have a knack for bringing out the worst in you."

My favorite grin spreads across his face, and it gets me all hot under the collar.

"You may be on to something there. Maybe we should start over?" he asks, and extends a hand out to me. Dr. Charming is back, and I'm rendered completely incoherent. "Hello. My name is Edward Cullen, and my mother taught me impeccable manners."

I bite my lip to fight back a huge, goofy and embarrassing grin, take his hand and shake it. The thrill it sends through my body to just _touch_ him unnerves me.

Oh yeah. Words. I'm supposed to say something back. I didn't think it was possible, but I seem to be getting stupider by the minute.

"Nice to meet you, Edward. My name is Bella Swan, and I'm very passionate about food." His smile gets even bigger, and I'm wondering what the Surgeon General would have to say about this man.

_SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Edward Cullen causes palpitations, bizarre disjointed thoughts, and loss of brain cells. May also cause spontaneous ovulation and wet panties._

I release his hand reluctantly and drop both of mine into my lap. The last thing I need is for him to notice how bad my tremor is right now, and let him see how much he's affecting me.

"So, Edward…" _God, I love saying his name_. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

He leans back a bit, and I watch as his brow slightly furrows and that shmexy muscle in his jaw twitches.

Hmmm...That answers my question.

"It depends."

_Noted._

"Well, I just can't help but wonder…" I draw it out a bit, just to see if I can make that muscle twitch again.

Mmmm…and there it is.

He raises his eyebrows, prodding me onward. But I see a hint of trepidation in his eyes. Does it make me a bad person that I may be enjoying this a bit?

I fold my arms on the table and lean forward. I notice Edward's eyes flit ever-so-briefly to my breasts, which are now being pushed upward as they rest on my forearms.

Now, this is getting more and more interesting by the minute.

"How is it that you've gotten this far in life and never had homemade macaroni and cheese? Didn't your mother ever cook for you?" I ask with a sweet smile.

His face relaxes and he smirks. "Actually, my mom cooked all the time. But she was a devoted doctor's wife and only cooked healthy meals. Something tells me that if she ever did make it, her version wouldn't have even closely resembled yours."

"But my version is totally healthy. Low fat _and_ low cholesterol."

The look he gives me is priceless. He's trying to read my face to see if I'm actually serious. "Bullshit."

I answer with a wicked grin. "Obviously."

He shakes his head with a smile. "You know, there was never any 'junk food' in the house when I was growing up." He chuckles to himself. "The first thing I did when I went away to college was stock up on Lucky Charms, Devil Dogs, and Ramen Noodles."

A fleeting image of a younger Edward, crouching in a corner and protectively hugging a package of Oreos, enters my mind. I stifle a giggle. "You poor, deprived soul. I wonder if that would be considered child abuse in some states."

He rubs the back of his neck, still smiling. "I'll be sure to mention that to my mother the next time I see her."

The waitress returns with our food, and my eyes widen as she places the dishes on the table. My pancakes are absolutely huge and practically fill the entire plate. The aroma of blueberries and vanilla fills my senses. I make a pretty swirly pattern of syrup on them and use my fork to cut a small piece to taste.

Oooooooh..._my mouth just died and went to heaven. _They are absolutely perfect. I may have even done a little happy-shake in my seat.

Oh, yeah. They're that good.

At that moment, I realize that I probably _did_ do a little shimmy in my seat because I realize Edward is staring at me with a curious, but definitely amused expression. I bite my lip and feel my face heat up, but refuse to acknowledge.

"You have to try these," I say, and begin to cut off a piece for him to sample. "They're absolutely amazing."

"Oh, no thanks, that's...all right..." His words trail off as I place the piece of pancake on his plate. He just looks at it, and then looks up at me. He looks hesitant—maybe uncomfortable?

I immediately feel bad. I share food with friends all the time without giving it a second thought, but I've clearly overstepped a boundary here. "I'm sorry," I immediately mumble. "I can take it off your plate if you want..."

His face relaxes, and he stops me. "No, no...It's okay. Thank you," he says softly. He cuts off a piece and takes a bite. His eyebrows raise, and he nods his head slowly. "Wow. That really is good."

I sigh in relief and smile. We eat in silence, as I'm coming to expect with him. His omelet is overstuffed with sautéed vegetables and has cheese oozing onto the plate. It looks really yummy. If I were eating with Alice, I could just reach over and take a piece. But of course, I wouldn't dare do that with Edward.

"Your omelet looks really good," I comment. Maybe he'll return the favor of a sample?

He nods. "It is."

He continues to eat.

_Okay, maybe he won't._

He glances back up at me. "I think it's my turn to ask you a personal question."

I tense up infinitesimally. "Sure."

"I just really want to know what you plan to specialize in. Somehow I don't think you'd put this much effort into learning how to suture unless you plan on doing it."

I sigh and push a blueberry around my plate. I guess there's no reason not to be completely honest…he's been very generous about allowing me as much practical experience as possible up to this point. I just hope that knowing I'll be going into Pediatrics won't change that.

"The pediatric practice I worked at back home offered me a full-time position." His face is blank, and I can't read him. "I really love working with kids, and it's a great opportunity. But I'm still not completely sure I'll take it. I really enjoyed most of my clinicals—well, maybe not Geriatrics, but everything else. I'm still trying to keep my options open."

"Do you plan to do much suturing in Pediatrics?"

"It's really important to me to be able to suture well, because both the doctor and the PA I worked with stitch all the time. It saves parents a trip to the ER." I look down at my plate of half-eaten pancakes. "Besides, with my hands, I need all the practice I can get. And this rotation will be my last chance to work on it."

I glance back up at him, and he's now leaning back in his seat. "Well, for what it's worth, you're getting much better control of your tremor. I don't think it will be an issue for you."

He gives me a smile, but for some reason, it almost looks strained. He turns his attention back to his food. Is he annoyed? He's so impossible to read. It's really beyond frustrating.

I watch him take a drink of his water, and something about the way he holds his glass strikes me as unusual. I'm trying to figure out what looks so awkward about it, when I realize that his pinky finger is actually tucked under the glass.

_How odd…_

Upon closer inspection, I notice the finger is swollen at the proximal joint and has a "hooked" appearance. There's a small, linear, silver scar along the side of it. How could I have not noticed it earlier? I've spent so much time watching those lovely digits of his. How did this escape my attention?

"It's a Boutonniere deformity." His soft voice interrupts my inner musings, and my eyes meet his. His expression is…guarded. "I was in a car accident. My finger was dislocated at a ninety-degree angle. Splinting and surgery couldn't fully correct it."

A car accident? When did it happen? Was it serious? Was that his only injury? I grab my water and take a large swig, giving myself a moment to collect my scattered thoughts.

"I can't believe I never noticed it," I reiterate my thoughts out loud and cast a timid glance at him.

"Most people don't." He rests his hand flat on the table, and I see that while his other fingers lay flush to the surface, his pinky doesn't fully straighten. I want to ask him more about it, but he picks up his fork and occupies himself with his omelet. I get the distinct impression that the discussion is definitely over.

Just fucking great.

I really do have a knack for bringing out the worst in him.

I turn my attention back to my awesome blueberry pancakes, but for some reason, they don't taste as awesome anymore.

The waitress returns to our table and asks if we want anything else.

His eyes dart to mine for a brief moment.

_Do _you want anything else, Edward?

_Because I do. I really, really do._

His lips twitch, and he looks back at the waitress. "I'll have some more coffee, thank you."

I can't hold back a shy smile. "And I'll have a decaf tea, please."

**XXX**

"So, what do you have left before graduation?" Edward asks, sipping his black coffee.

"Well, I have Psychiatry next. At Queens General again, actually." I glance at him, measuring his reaction. He raises his eyebrows and nods.

"That will be rather interesting." He chuckles.

_It could be._

"Oh, I'm sure it will be. I've heard stories." I grin. "After that, I have a five-week Outpatient Internal Medicine rotation. Then I graduate at the end of June. Piece of cake."

After a bit of lighter conversation, we finish up, and Edward walks me back to the hospital. I'm ashamed to admit how much I'm wishing this morning wasn't ending. The more time I spend around him, the more I crave it.

"Well, thank you for breakfast. That was very generous of you."

"Hardly. You've been feeding me for the past two call nights. I just want to make sure you continue to." The corner of his mouth lifts, and my eyes just vapor lock to his lips. He hasn't shaved yet, and the shadow of scruff along his jaw line is downright…_indecent._

I have to leave. Now.

His smile broadens, and he tilts his head to the side with a roguish glint in his eyes. "See you Monday night, Bella."

"Yeah…goodnight," I mumble back, as I turn to go to my car.

_Goodnight?_

Goddamnit. I really need to petition the Surgeon General.

**XXX**

"And where the hell have you been?" Alice accosts me the moment I open the door, effectually killing my Cullen-buzz. "Do you ever check your phone anymore? Why are you so late?"

The raven-haired elf is in full-on rage mode for some reason. I'm completely taken aback. I take my phone out of my pocket and see that it was turned off. "I'm sorry, Alice. I didn't realize my phone was off. I was just out getting some breakfast. Sorry I didn't tell you, _Mom_."

Her eyes narrow at me. "What do you mean you were just out getting some breakfast?" She follows me into the kitchen, and I set my messenger bag down on the small table.

"I mean, I went out for breakfast. You know, the first meal of the day. There's this little diner near the hospital that makes the best blueberry pancakes…" God, I love fucking with Alice.

"Fuck the pancakes. Spill, Bella!" she practically squeals at me and pushes me into a chair. She pounces into a seat and watches me intently.

"It was nothing," I say nonchalantly. "Edward just took me out to the diner. I got blueberry pancakes. And he had an omelet."

She grins ear to ear. "Dr. Fuck-Me took you out to breakfast?"

I roll my eyes, but I can't contain the smile that gives me away. "It was really nothing, Alice." I stand up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

"Sure, whatever you say." She trails after me and follows me into my room. "Oh, and you'll definitely want to rest up. We're going out tonight."

"We are? What's going on?" I don't remember making plans for this weekend. Truth be told, I was looking forward to vegetating for the rest of the day.

"Emmett told me about this little pub near the hospital. He says it's a lot of fun, and they have good food. And apparently very good drink specials." She waggles her eyebrows.

I change into an old tee shirt and a pair of plaid boxers. "I don't feel like schlepping all the way back to Queens tonight," I whine and unceremoniously plop onto my bed. "And we can't drink if one of us has to drive, anyway."

Alice's eyes dance with mischief. "_We_ won't be driving," she adds, and climbs up onto the bed and starts jumping on it. "_Jasper_ will."

I bite my lip as a smile takes over my face. Poor Jasper doesn't stand a chance tonight.

**XXX**

"Wow, look at you!" Alice exclaims as I walk through the door.

"You like?" I ask, preening for her. On a whim, I decided that my hair had grown long enough and was in desperate need of a serious pruning. Alice recommended her salon, and I was pleasantly surprised at how nice they made my hair look. It still flowed past my shoulders, but it looked shiny and healthy for once and curled in soft, stylish waves around my face.

She walks around me and looks me over. "I definitely like."

"What time is Jasper coming by?" I ask, taking a water bottle out of the fridge.

"He's picking us up at eight." Her eyes are bright with excitement.

"Is it just the three of us?" Suddenly, the idea of potentially being a third wheel doesn't sound so appealing. "You know, you're a big girl, Alice. You don't need me to hold your hand. If anything, I think you two deserve some quality time alone. Actually, I think I feel a headache coming on…I'm sure Jasper would understand."

"Don't be ridiculous." She scowls at me. "You need a night out just as much as I do. And Emmett will probably be there, anyway."

Even better. He'll probably be there with Nurse Barbie, and then I can be the fifth wheel.

"Bellaaa," she whines at me. "Don't do this…I need you there. It will be fun. And you look way too hot to be sitting around the apartment in your boxers all night." She gives me those stupid puppy-dog eyes, and I just roll my eyes and concede.

"You're lucky I like you, Alice," I mutter, taking a gulp of water.

"You love me," she quips with a playful grin.

I sigh with resignation…Of course I do. How could I not?

**XXX**

I wasn't sure how to dress for this place, so I settle on a deep blue cashmere cardigan with a light camisole top layered underneath. I've paired it with my FM jeans— aptly named because they do fucking magical things to my ass—and a pair of brown equestrian boots. I'm pleased with the way my makeup looks, since I usually don't wear much at all, and I've managed to keep it natural.

Alice is dressed to kill in a pretty, flouncy top, with a pair of dark-rinsed skinny jeans and heels.

Judging by Jasper's reaction when he sees her, I'm quite certain her mission is accomplished.

Like I said, the poor guy doesn't even stand a chance.

Tara's is a relatively small, unassuming pub-style bar. It's rather crowded, but it isn't too loud for conversation. The three of us squeeze through the bar area to a section with tables in the back. As we wait to be seated, I spot a large arm waving us over.

"Alice! Bella! Over here." The large arm is attached to Emmett, who greets us with a wide, welcoming grin. "Glad you could make it." And lo and behold, there, sitting at his table, is Nurse Barbie—looking gorgeous and flawless, of course.

"Emmett, this is Jasper." Alice introduces the two men, and they exchange a manly handshake.

"Come on, have a seat. We're just watchin' the game." He ushers us to his table and grabs extra chairs for us. "You guys remember Rosalie, right? She works over in L&D." He looks at me while he says her name, and I smile and nod. She returns a small smile and quickly directs her attention back to the game.

The three of us squeeze in at the table, and Emmett starts talking baseball with Jasper.

I definitely need a drink.

There's a large blackboard on the wall with the specials of the day written on it. I skim over it until something catches my eye.

"Hey, Alice, what is a 'Long Island Iced Tea'?" I'd heard of them but never tried one.

"Are you kidding me? You've never had one?" She looks surprised. "How could you be living on Long Island all this time and not have tried one? That's just unconstitutional!"

I shake my head with a grin. "Well, I guess it's about time to remedy that, don't you think?"

I'm a little surprised when the waitress serves us the pint-sized glasses of what looks like real iced tea, complete with lemon wedge garnishes. I'm even more surprised when I find out it actually tastes a lot like…well, iced tea.

"These are really good," I say to no one in particular. I can detect an undertone of alcohol, but it doesn't taste strong at all, and it goes down really easily.

I'm about three-quarters of the way through my drink, and I've officially decided that Emmett McCarty may very well be one of the most entertaining people I've ever met.

Other than myself, of course.

We've all gotten into exchanging stories about our funniest patient-related experiences, and I'm beginning to worry that Emmett is going to make me pee in my pants.

"I swear—you can't make this shit up!" He laughs. "So there I am, with this woman's knees trapping my arm in this freaky death grip while I still have the speculum inside her. She keeps screaming at me to take it out, and I'm trying to calmly explain to her that I can't until she releases my arm…"

Now _that's_ a visual!

Aw, fuck— I really am going to pee in my pants if I don't get to the bathroom. I excuse myself from the table and get up to find a restroom.

I'm annoyed to find that there are several people already on line for the ladies room, but my bladder is calling the shots right now, so I bite the bullet and wait.

I seem to have worked up quite a thirst after the epic wait for a turn in the ladies room, so I decide to get another round of that tasty iced tea. I work my way up to the bar and order two of them, figuring Alice would be ready for a refill as well. I glance around the room while I wait for my drinks.

I'm taken by surprise by the feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, hello there, Bella. I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

My eyes widen, and my entire body heats up, as I'd know that velvety, seductive voice in my ear anywhere. I whip my head around to find my now favorite doctor, in all his fuckhot glory, standing right behind me.

And as I take in his magnetic green eyes, freshly ruffled sex-hair, and panty-liquefying smile, it becomes all too clear to me.

I don't stand a fucking chance.

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><p><strong>AN: SM owns Twilight. Of course.**

So, I'm entirely too giddy that ToB was nominated for a Shimmer Award in the Outtake Award (Best Comedy) category! Gah! That's just so fricken cool. So, um, thank you for that.

Have I mentioned how much I love hearing from you guys? Reviews are better than blueberry pancakes and Long Island Iced Teas. They make me do a little happy-shimmy. Really.


	12. Chapter 12

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

If I didn't think it was possible for Edward Cullen to get any hotter, I was sorely mistaken.

Because what stands behind me—wearing a button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, worn-in jeans, and a day or two's worth of neatly groomed scruff accenting a pornographic jaw line—is downright delectable.

And by the smirk on his face, he is completely aware that I am shamelessly eye-fucking him.

Out of nowhere, I let out a stupid girlie-giggle. I'm one of those people that laugh when I'm nervous and smiles at inappropriate things. It's an irritating habit, but it's completely involuntary. I look away briefly and draw in a deep breath to clear my head.

"Good God, that has to be the cheesiest line yet." I snort. "I really do bring out the worst in you, don't I?"

He scratches the back of his neck, still wearing that fucking cocky smirk. "You must. And here I thought I was being so clever," he says with a chuckle. "You do clean up rather nicely, though."

That makes me bite my lip.

"Thank you." If I didn't know any better, I would think that Dr. Fuck-Me was actually _flirting_ with me.

But I really should know better…right?

"Two teas?" The bartender pulls me out of my daze and I pay for my drinks. Edward orders a beer and then glances at the two glasses, and I notice his jaw twitch.

What's that all about?

"Who are you here with?" he asks, his brow slightly furrowed as he glances around the bar.

"My roommate, Alice. I'm not sure if you remember her. She's been in L&D with Emmett," I reply, and his face relaxes. "Actually, he's here, too."

His eyes narrow, and he looks over my shoulder with a strange expression on his face. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?" I think I may be a little confused here.

"I'm meeting him here."Edward pays for his beer and takes a swig from the dark brown bottle. My eyes are drawn to his Adam's apple as it bobs up and down as he swallows. "You know where he is?"

Edward is here to meet Emmett.

Alice brought me here to meet up with Emmett.

Somehow, this is triggering something remote in the cobwebs of my mind. Like high school geometry, maybe? Isn't that some kind of mathematical law or something? I know there's a name for it, but I can't remember it for the life of me. But somehow it seems very relevant right now…

"Bella?" Edward is staring at me curiously, snapping me out of my bizarre little brain-teleport.

"So…if you're here to meet Emmett, and I'm also here to meet up with Emmett as well, then aren't you technically here to meet me by default?"

"Okay…" He furrows his eyebrows, and looks at me like there's something strange growing out of my ear. "Yeah, I guess you _could_ look at it that way…"

"The Law of Syllogism!" I exclaim out loud, entirely pleased with myself that I was actually able to pull that ridiculous piece of knowledge out of my ass, and then immediately self-conscious for blurting out said piece of useless knowledge like I'm on some game show or something. Especially since I have no idea if it's even correct. I take a few gulps of my iced tea to wash down my embarrassment.

Edward just looks at me for a beat…and then his lips slowly pull into a lovely, bone-softening grin, and he chuckles lightly. "You know what, Bella? I think, in a _very _roundabout way, you may actually be right."

My lips answer with a smile of their own, and at that very moment, I feel like he actually _gets_ _me_. And all at once, I'm stupefied and absolutely enamored by this beautiful, enigmatic man before me.

**XXX**

The six of us have settled in with a few appetizers to pick at and pitchers of beer, and I'm finishing my second glass of tea.

Or is it my third? Nah—I'm pretty sure it's just my second.

_Isn't it?_

I'm having a surprisingly good time, and it doesn't even make me remotely nervous that the most luscious and fuckable man on this God-given earth is sitting right next to me. And I'm not even breaking a sweat at the fact that he is sitting so close to me that my knee brushes against his every time either of us shifts in our seat.

Which I do quite often.

Actually, I am coooool as a cucumber. I think I may finally be developing some immunity to Dr. Fuck-Me's voodoo charm.

Alice and Jasper are getting along like peas and carrots, and Alice is obviously feeling no pain. I know this because her voice has gone up several octaves, and she's gesturing animatedly as she speaks. Sure telltale signs of Alice intoxification.

Wait—is intoxification even a real word? I'm pretty sure it is. If it isn't, it totally _should_ be.

Rosalie is much more fun than I ever would have imagined once she warms up. I can definitely tell what Emmett sees in her now. Well, that is, besides the obvious_._

She's filling us in on some very juicy gossip about the illustrious Dr. Baker. Edward describes him as a "weasel" who got the position as Department Head because his father is on the board of directors for the hospital. But Rosalie has dirt on him that's far more interesting. Apparently she found out he had been cheating on his wife with one of the residents from last year, Victoria Conway.

"So, Victoria threw him under the bus the moment he dumped her. She even told me that he used to enjoy wearing her underwear and was especially partial to white lace."

Alice and I burst out in a fit of giggles, and Jasper almost does a spit-take, guffawing loudly. "That is fucking priceless!" he says, and I can safely say that he'll be taking _that_ visual with him for the rest of the rotation.

I may have felt a teeny, tiny twinge of guilt at that moment as I cast a sheepish glance at Edward, and I thank the Lord above that he can't read minds.

I take the last sip of my drink and start crunching on some of the half-melted ice cubes remaining in the glass.

Emmett watches me and chuckles. "You know, Bella—they say that chewing ice is a sign of sexual frustration."

Alice almost snorts her drink out of her nose as she starts laughing. I roll my eyes at the both of them and dismiss them with a wave of my hand.

"Pffft…Oh, please. How very unoriginal of you, Emmett." I turn to Alice and give her a kick under the table. The punk ass biotch actually sticks her tongue out at me, so I wrinkle my nose and make an equally immature face back at her. I catch Edward out of the corner of my eye, who takes a swig from his beer as his eyes roam away from the table.

Rosalie seems to find this amusing as well. "You know, I think it's actually associated with iron deficiency anemia. Maybe that's why you passed out the other day?"

My eyes widen a bit and I wave a finger at the too-perfect blonde supermodel sitting across from me. "You! You, missy, have a big mouth! And so nice of you to rat me out to Captain Insensitive, here!" I spat, gesturing over to the big lug sitting next to her.

Rosalie laughs, and Emmett pretends to look wounded. "Hey! I'm a very sensitive guy!" he protests with a mock-pout.

Rosalie smiles at him and pats his cheek. "Of course you are."

"Aw, come on, Bella, you have to admit. It was rather funny." Edward leans into me, giving me a nudge, making me flush and sending my heart rate into a galloping frenzy.

_Fuck_…So much for immunity.

"Actually, I do it because I like it when it squeaks."

Crickets and blank stares all around.

"What? Didn't you ever notice that sometimes ice squeaks a little when you chew it? Just like snow squeaks when you walk on it? It has something to do with temperature and pressure or something." I huff. "Really! You can Google it!"

Edward looks at me, cocks his head to the side, and strokes his chin with his thumb and index finger. "You really are kind of special, aren't you?"

I hear Alice snort. "You have no idea."

And with that, I've had enough abuse for the evening. "I need a refill," I announce and stand up abruptly. As I do, my body may rise to the occasion, but the blood to my brain does not, and I almost fall backward while my poor body realizes the car is in motion but the driver is MIA.

Edward stands quickly and grabs me around the waist, helping me regain my footing. And now the feeling of his hands _on me_ is throwing me into a dizzy tailspin, as I stare at him wide-eyed, his face so close…

"You smell really good," I hear myself blurt out. _Fuck, did I really say that out loud?_

"Maybe getting some water would be a better idea," he mutters, and though I see concern in his eyes, there's a bossy edge to his voice I don't care for.

I gently pull away from him, lift my chin, and smooth my clothing. "Thank you, I'm fine." Edward frowns, and I look around the room for a distraction.

I need to regroup.

Rosalie stands up and joins me. "I think I could use a refill, too." She links her arm with mine, and I see her shoot a glance at Edward.

I walk with Rosalie to the bar, and she orders two club sodas with lime. I offer her a gracious smile, realizing what she's doing for me.

"You're really sweet," I say.

She smiles softly. "I should have warned you about the Long Island iced teas here. They sneak up on you and bite you in the ass. Trust me, I know."

Really? I hadn't noticed.

We head back to the table with our sodas, and Alice bounces up to us. "Jasper and I just got the pool table. You guys wanna play?" She's so funny. She reminds me of a Jack Russell Terrier when she drinks.

"Oooh, I love pool!" I turn to Rosalie. "You in?"

"I've got to warn you, I'm very competitive."

I crack my neck. "Bring it, Barbie."

Rosalie lifts an eyebrow at me. "Did you just call me 'Barbie'?"

_Oops._

Fucking filter breakdown. _Not a good sign. _

I just smile and shrug. "You should hear what I call Alice."

**XXX**

Man, do I suck!

I'm usually a pretty decent pool player. I used to play pool with Jacob and his friends all the time. But I can't seem to hit a single ball tonight. The only one I did manage to get in wasn't even mine.

It's my turn again, and I try to set up my shot. As I'm leaning across the table, checking the alignment, I feel a hand run from the middle of my back down to my hip.

_Who the fuck is touching me?_

My body tenses, and I look up to see a tall, olive-skinned man with medium length wavy dark hair who obviously thinks he's fucking Rico Suave hovering over me. I narrow my eyes at him and move away from his pawing.

"You're holding it wrong," his uninvited voice murmurs into my ear. "Here, let me help you."

"I don't need any help, thank you," I retort. I try to ignore him, but I feel his hand return to my hip, slipping dangerously close to my ass. I bolt upright, my fist tightening around the pool stick. I'm about to tell him off—and not quietly—but as I'm about to open my mouth, another voice interrupts.

"Everything okay over here?"

I know that voice. It's the one that twists my insides and makes my heart stutter. I turn around and see Edward standing behind me, scowling at my unwelcome friend. His words are benign, but his body language says otherwise, and his expression is downright intimidating.

I gotta admit—it's pretty fucking _hot._

"Hi, Edward!" I greet cheerfully, eternally happy to see him. Rico eyes Edward up and down and takes a step backward. He nods at me and walks away.

I feel an internal sigh of relief, and I beam at Edward. He's still scowling a bit, and I give him a quizzical look.

"Umm, thank you?" I say to him, though it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. He still looks a little agitated, and my dirty mind thinks of a few things that could ease his tension. I place my hand on his chest and quirk my eyebrow. "Did you come over to play with me?"

"Bella," he says with a sigh. "I think you may have had enough for tonight."

"Pshhhht…I'm totally fine," I insist, though I know I'm completely full of it. I use the hand I have on his chest—a rather firm feeling chest, might I add— to push off of him as I turn abruptly to walk away, but I almost lose my balance in the process.

Edward catches me by the arm and glares at me. "Sure you are."

I'm momentarily irritated with him, but then something catches my eye over his shoulder. "Ooooh, they have darts! I love darts! I'm very, very good at it. Wanna play?"

Edward finally lightens up and snorts. "You think I'd trust you with flying sharp objects right now? Not happening." He slips his arm around my waist. "Come on, let's go get some fresh air."

"Chicken," I mutter under my breath, but I let him guide me through the bar.

Dr. Fuck-Me has his arm around me, and it's making me utterly lightheaded…or could the fact that I might be completely schnockered have something to do with it?

Nah, I only had like, two drinks. Or three? Whatever. This has _got_ to be all Edward.

Haha…schnockered is such a funny word, isn't it? I wonder who thought up that one.

Edward escorts me outside, and there's a fine mist of rain in the air. His arm is still around my waist, and I lift my head up to get a good look at him.

Sigh…chiseled jaw, beautiful green eyes that look all intense and broody right now, and lips that look so soft…

"You're so pretty," I croon at him with a lazy grin. Really. He is.

He furrows his brow and gets this funny half-assed grin on his face. "Bella, you are absolutely wasted." He shakes his head slowly. "Come on, let's get you home."

I shake my head furiously. "What? No! Tonight Alice and Jasper are supposed to hook up! I can't ruin that by making them take me home early!"

Edward releases me and rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks back at the bar for a moment, and then he returns his determined glare back at me. "Fine. Then I'll take you myself."

"You don't have to drive me home," I insist stubbornly, pulling away from his grasp. "Maybe I can just take a nap in Jasper's car until they're ready to go home."

Strong arms grab me, and before I know what even hit me, my body is lifted and thrown over something large—and not only is everything upside-down, but it's moving.

Or am I moving? The ground is moving.

And I have a lovely view of Edward's denim-clad ass.

_That's a mighty fine ass you got there, Edward._

"Thank you," Edward says. "Glad you like it."

_What the fuck? Does the dude read minds or something?_

Edward laughs. "No, Bella. You're speaking out loud."

_Well, fuck me sideways_.

"Tempting offer, but I really think you should sleep this off, first. Then I'm open to discussion."

"You can't just drag me off like some kind of fucking caveman!" I protest and give him a good, swift slap on his fine ass.

"Yes, I can. I'm bigger. And sober."

_Stupid, pretty, green-eyed bully!_

"I can hear you, Bella." He fucking snickers at me!

"Oh, just shut up and get out of my fucking head!" I hiss.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I can't believe you're doing this," I mutter under my breath. I let out a frustrated huff. I watch the ground go by.

"Well, believe it, Bella. I'm taking you home."

"And what do you plan on doing with me then, Dr. Cullen?" I quip suggestively.

He hesitates for a moment before answering. "I plan to put you to bed."

_My, oh my. I certainly hope so._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Hmmm...did she say _that_ out loud, too?

Gotta love Long Island iced teas.

Oooooh...and since I'm a total food whore (in case you haven't noticed), I have an amazing food rec! Talenti gelato—_Caramel Cookie Crunch. _The smoothest vanilla gelato with dulce de leche and chocolate covered cookie crunch. I'm talking life-changing, people. Seriously. I'm obsessed.

Many, many thanks to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour and Fernn for being all shades of awesome, and to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their amazing beta work. Oh, and to you guys out there, who make so giddy with every review, alert and rec : )


	13. Chapter 13

SM owns all of Twilight. But Edward's crooked pinky is all mine.

Thanks as always to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their incredible beta work, and to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour, and Fernn for, well, everything : )

* * *

><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

Bella is a fucking hot mess.

A beautiful, absurd, geometry-law-quoting, thinking-out-loud mess.

And I want to wring Emmett's thick neck right now, because I know that fucker orchestrated this whole fiasco.

Though, I do have to admit…uncensored Bella _is_ quite entertaining.

And rather enlightening.

As I walk to my car, listening to Bella grumbling incoherently along the way, I'm wondering how the hell the night turned out like this. The last thing I expected was to be hauling an inebriated Bella Swan over my shoulder and driving her home.

But this girl does bring out a protective—and distressingly possessive—side of me. And after witnessing the scene at the pool table, there was no way I was letting her stay any longer.

Seeing her leaning over the table, with her perfect curves on taunting display, nearly did me in.

Seeing some degenerate's hands dangerously close to her ass brought out such a disturbing, primordial reaction within me that it took everything I had not to eviscerate the douchebag.

Seeing her angry reaction to the groper filled me with a peculiar satisfaction and gave me the green light I needed to intervene.

Maybe Bella was right. She did seem to bring out the worst in me.

"How are you going to drive me home if you don't know where I live?" she asks, as I start up my car.

"Telling me your address would be a good start." As she does, I enter it into my GPS. "Voila."

She smiles, and she gazes at me like I'm a goddamn rocket scientist.

Silly, silly girl.

The long ride to her apartment is nothing short of interesting. She tinkers with my radio for a bit, changing a few stations, and then discovers my CD collection in the center console. She browses through them, making rambling, random comments about my eclectic taste in music. She's kind of driving me crazy, especially since she's taking my CDs out of order. But she's so cute and sweet about it that I can't possibly get annoyed.

She even scolds me for going liberally over the speed limit—yet another reminder that she is a cop's daughter.

When I realize that she's been quiet for the last several minutes, I glance over at her to find that she's passed out.

At that moment, I wonder how I could have ever considered her merely pretty. The sight of her—unguarded and peaceful, her long hair framing her delicate features—is stunning. The urge to touch her, smell her, taste her...it's killing me.

"Bella," I call her softly, lightly shaking her shoulder once we get to her apartment. "Bella, you need to wake up."

She swats my hand away. "No," she mumbles.

I can't help but smile as she pouts her plump lips and turns her head away from me. She's not going to make this easy for me.

Why should that surprise me?

"Come on, Bella, you're home." I give her shoulder another gentle shake, and she startles awake. She looks around, wide-eyed and disoriented. Her confusion dissipates when she sees me, and a gorgeous, beaming smile lights up her face.

She leans on me as I help her to her door, and after watching her fumble with her keys for a few minutes, I take them from her and unlock the door myself. I try to guide her inside, but I'm met with resistance and she starts to pull at my shirt.

"I don't want to go home yet," she whines. "I want ice cream. Can we get some ice cream? Pretty, _pretty_ please?"

I sigh and shake my head as I open her door and steer her inside.

"You're no fun," I hear her grumble, and it makes me chuckle. _So fucking cute._

Her apartment is very open with minimal furniture, but it's accented with clearly feminine touches. It's a little stuffy inside, and Bella mutters something about the "stupid thermostat" and takes off her cardigan, carelessly tossing it on a chair. I'm caught off guard and immediately distracted by the way her long hair falls around the newly exposed skin.

I assist Bella as she stumbles to her room. Somehow, in the many times I've admittedly imagined getting into Bella's bedroom, it certainly didn't play out quite like this.

She gracelessly plops herself down onto her bed and begins to pull on her boot, seemingly trying to take it off. After several moments of fruitless tugging, she lets out a frustrated moan and releases the uncooperative boot with a huff.

"It's broken." She groans with an adorable pout.

I sit down on the bed next to her, biting back an amused grin, and I look into her eyes.

"Would you like some help?" I request gently. She lets out an exasperated, dramatic sigh and submits.

I take her right foot in my hand and gently unzip the first boot. She watches me with a defeated expression on her face as I carefully pull it off and set it on the floor. When my eyes return to hers, I see that her expression has changed. She places her other foot in my lap, and this time regards me intently as I repeat the process with the other boot. She leans forward, and there is now intensity in her eyes that makes my pulse race.

She scoots herself closer to me on the bed, and she tilts her head to the side as her gaze roams my face. I feel a heavy twinge in my chest as she studies me with sultry, hooded eyes, and she raises her hand slowly, tentatively toward my face…stopping mere inches away.

"May I?" she murmurs.

I don't answer, but I don't pull away. When I feel her fingers make feather-light contact with my cheek, I draw in a slow, deep breath and let my eyes drift close as her fingertips graze my jaw. I sigh and feel the tension dissolve as they softly trace the line of my chin, then brush gingerly across my lips.

_What the hell is she trying to do to me?_

I open my eyes and find her gaze following the path of her fingers. Beautiful, bottomless brown eyes meet mine, and I watch her expression shift from shy uncertainty to resolution. I'm wondering what's going through her mind…and then I feel her hand move from my face to the back of my neck, and she suddenly pulls me toward her and presses her lips to mine.

My body tenses at the initial shock, and something in the dark recesses of my brain is screaming at me to stop this…but her lips are so soft, and so warm, and I feel a rousing current course through my veins as I let the fresh, inviting scent of her skin envelope me.

_She feels incredible._

She pulls me closer, molding her lips and body to mine, and her fingers weave through my hair. My body responds to her on its own accord, and my hands caress her face and drift down to her neck. When her lips part to deepen the kiss, I'm just fucking done.

_Just one little taste…_

She opens up to me and I'm just lost in the delicious overload of sensation; her breasts crushed against my chest, fingers caressing my scalp, the sweetness of her mouth, her distinct Bella-flavor—laced with a subtle undercurrent of…_alcohol._

_Fuck._

My brain commandeers just enough blood supply from down below to realize how many shades of wrong this is, and I gently pull away as my dormant conscience actually kicks in.

I brace myself for the confusion and rejection I expect to see in her eyes, but instead I find them glassy and dazed, and she's swaying minutely.

"Bella?" I cup her face in my hand, stroking her soft cheek with my thumb.

"Umm…a little dizzy," she mumbles so softly I barely hear her, and she clutches my shirt, attempting to keep her balance.

An odd sense of relief washes over me, and I carefully help her lie down. I brush her long hair away from her face and let my fingers drag through the soft, silky strands. She sighs in contentment as she lets her eyes close. The moment fills me with a surprising but comforting warmth.

I rise from the bed, watching as she rolls onto her side and curls up. I don't want her to get cold, but she's lying on top of her covers. I glance around the room and spot a throw blanket tossed over a chair. I grab it and drape it over her.

I take one last look at her before I leave, my mind jumbled with conflicting emotions. As I turn to go, I hear her whisper my name.

"Don't go," she murmurs, her eyes still closed. "Please, don't go."

I'm not sure if she's still awake or if she's talking in her sleep, but her words melt me.

_She wants me to stay._

How could I say no?

I couldn't possibly leave her alone in this condition. I need to make sure she'll be okay.

"I'll stay on your couch until Alice gets home," I concede. "I'll be here if you need me."

She smiles softly and hugs her pillow. I watch her for a bit longer, until I see her breathing lull into a slow, steady rhythm.

As I settle onto her couch, I turn on the television and the Food Network comes on. It makes me smile. Of course Bella watches the Food Network.

It then occurs to me that _a lot_ of what Bella does makes me smile.

I just sit there, conflicted, frustrated, and horny as fucking hell.

I sort through the events of the evening…particularly the part when Bella kissed me. I find myself replaying that part over and over…

The only thing I'm sure of at this moment is that I want_ more._

_I want her._

**XXX**

Someone is calling my name.

I get up, following the familiar, alluring voice, and it leads me to Bella's room.

The door is halfway open, and I look inside to see if she's talking in her sleep again.

But she's awake. Bright-eyed and sober. And waiting for me.

Wearing nothing but a thin sheet wrapped around her torso.

She cocks her eyebrow at me with a seductive smile and beckons me over with her finger.

That's all the invitation I need.

Clothes? _Gone._

Reservations? _History._

I pin her naked body beneath mine, and her full lips part, desire and need in her rich chocolate eyes. Her glossy hair spreads out across her pillow, and I'm mesmerized by the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest.

_So fucking gorgeous._

I hover over her, my forearms holding my weight, my hands cupping her face. I capture her bottom lip between my own, and she's so sweet, so pliant, so eager. The tip of her tongue tentatively seeks mine, inviting me in. She is warm and delicious…tongues caress and intertwine. I want to consume her; I need to sample every inch of her.

I bring my lips to her neck, gently sucking a delicious spot under her ear, which makes her whimper. I take my time working my way down the column of her neck, sprinkling warm, wet kisses, savoring her skin. I can feel her fingers thread through my hair, massaging my scalp, egging me on as I nip at the dip of her collarbone.

Her skin tastes like chocolate.

My hands roam around her body, exploring and learning what she likes, what makes her moan. The scratch of her fingernails up and down my spine is giving me chills, and I can feel her anticipation building.

_God, this is going to be good._ I want to drag it out, tease her. I want to hear her beg for me.

She begins to squirm under my weight as I make my way down to the swell of her breasts. Her nails scratch my scalp as I kiss the creamy alabaster skin, and it feels fucking fantastic. I circle my tongue around the edges of her firm nipple, and she sucks in a sharp breath when I finally take it into my mouth. Her body arches, and she wraps her legs around my hips, drawing me even closer.

She's managed to align herself with my cock, grinding her sex against me, panting. She's so fucking warm and wet and ready, and my control is hanging by a thread.

I try to center myself, listening to the heady rhythm of her breathing. She's driving me fucking crazy, and it takes everything I have to hold myself back, to keep up this torturous pace.

"Please," she breathes. "I want you. God, please..."

_Hell fucking yes._

I attack her mouth with my own and draw back, so ready to bury myself in the Holy Grail, when I feel it.

Cold, hard steel, pressing into the base of my skull.

"Go ahead, you little punk. Make. My. Day."

Chief fucking Swan going all _Dirty Harry_ on me wakes me up abruptly, my body in a cold sweat, my erection now cowering in surrender. I sit up, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes, and I swallow down the urge to scream out my frustration.

It always ends this way. Usually I don't get this far in the dream before he shows up. But it seems that even my subconscious won't let me have her.

Yet the more time I spend with her, the more frequent and more _vivid _the dreams become.

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm still on Bella's couch. I glance at my watch and see that it's after four in the morning.

The lights are still on in the living room, and so is the television. I'm guessing that Alice isn't home, or I would have heard her come in. And judging by the way she was all over Jasper, there's a good chance she won't be at all.

I want to check on Bella and make sure she's okay, but peeking in on her while she's sleeping, _especially_ after that fucked-up dream, would make me feel like a creeper. Instead, I listen outside her door without looking in, and I'm satisfied when I hear her slow, rhythmic breathing.

I don't know what to do.

_Should I stay, or should I go?_

My mind drifts back to the dream…it seemed _so real._ And there are parts of it I desperately wish _were_ real.

But there seemed to be so many obstacles to consider if I wanted to pursue Bella.

First of all, I'm her preceptor. To start a relationship with her while she was still my student felt sleazy. I wasn't some unethical douchebag like Baker, who was notorious for fucking around with residents under his supervision.

Second was the fact that Bella was going back to Forks after she graduated. I was committed to a fellowship in New York for another three years.

It was like having an expiration date before anything even started. I couldn't think of her that way.

Last, and probably most important, was the issue of Bella's father—Chief Swan thought I was a "piece of shit."

I believe those were his _exact _words.

Granted, that was about nine years ago. But I highly doubt he'd forget about that night, and I also doubt that his opinion of me has changed.

Yet I also had to bear in mind that Bella was a grown woman, and all I could do was give her all the facts and let her decide what _she _wanted.

I scrub my hand over my face as I let the complexity of the situation settle in. And I come to grips with the fact that it's time to have a long talk with Bella.

And soon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

(Biting fingernails...why do I feel like I should run and hide?)

I'm gonna go make myself some brownies. And maybe a cocktail...


	14. Chapter 14

Hey there! Thanks as always to mc101180 for being the amazing and patient beta that she is. And to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour and Fernn for everything else : )

This chapter should hopefully answer a few questions.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

_Oh my God, I need some water. _

I startle awake, disoriented as to where I am. My head feels like it's imploded. And I'm pretty sure there is moss growing on my tongue.

I realize I'm in my bed, and I'm wrapped up in a tangle of sheets. It's still dark, and when I glance at the clock and see that it's 6:23 a.m., I immediately panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so late—Pencildick Baker is going to fucking ream me—how could Alice let me oversleep—

And then I realize that it's Sunday morning…and it all starts to slowly unfold in my head.

_Oh good God…_

I definitely need a drink of water. And Advil. Yes. Advil would be very, very good right now.

I untangle myself from my sheets and find my jeans wrapped around one leg. I grumble as I gracelessly kick them off.

I almost trip over my own two feet as I climb out of bed, cursing at myself as I regain my footing. I stumble into the bathroom to relieve my screaming bladder and brush the moss out of my mouth.

When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I groan out loud. I look like something straight out of_ The Rocky Horror Picture Show. _I tie my hair up and wash my face with cold water to try to make myself feel a little more human. I grab two Advil—on second thought, make that three—from the medicine chest.

I head into the kitchen for something to drink and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I start to chug it as if my life depended on it.

"I like your apartment. It has a fantastic view."

The familiar, silky, and definitely male voice scares the living _shit_ out of me, and I shriek loudly as my body jerks in surprise, effectively spilling my water all over the kitchen and myself.

And to add insult to injury, I realize—to my utter and complete mortification—that I am standing in front of my open refrigerator wearing nothing but a now wet camisole and underwear! I curse loudly and duck behind the open door.

I peek out from behind it and find Dr. Sex-Hair sitting on my couch with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin plastered on his face.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in my apartment?" I screech in a total panic, my heart racing a mile a minute.

The cheeky bastard chuckles softly. "Why so shy now? You certainly weren't last night."

The brain goes into full-fledged panic-mode, while the ovaries are hi-fiving each other. I start scrambling through jumbled flashes of memories from the previous night; the Long Island iced teas…playing pool…an upside-down view of Edward's ass…watching him take off my boots…Edward's lips…

I gasp out loud.

_No, I didn't…._

_Did I?_

I duck down behind the door again, squeezing my eyes shut. No, no, no…this is _so_ not really happening. This is definitely just a dream, and any minute my high school biology teacher is going to show up and announce a pop quiz I'm not prepared for…

"Bella?"

_Fucking A! That is definitely not Mr. Banner's voice!_

"Are you going to stay behind there forever?"

_Hell yes I am!_

"Do you intend to come out, or am I going to have to come get you?"

_Hmmmm…_I actually consider the possibility for a split second and then reconsider. I pop my head over the door.

He's reclining with his arm comfortably draped along the back of my couch, the picture of ease: shirt rumpled, hair sticking up in every which direction, and the goddamned smuggest, sexiest grin on his mug.

"I am not moving an inch with you out there! You—go into my bathroom. And shut the door. _Now_!"

His smile broadens, and I watch as he rises from the couch, his hands held up in surrender. He slowly walks toward my bathroom, and once I hear the door shut, I sprint to my bedroom and shut the door.

I rip the wet camisole off my body and throw on a hoodie and jeans as my brain tries to fit the puzzle pieces together in my head. I remember Edward driving me home, but from that point on details get hazy; and though I keep getting flashbacks that showcase his beautiful lips, I have no clue which ones are fantasy versus reality.

The undeniable fact remains, though, that Dr. Fuck-Me-Please is in my apartment. At this very moment.

And I have no idea why.

I take a few deep, cleansing breaths to collect myself. I try to ignore the fact that this man has just seen me hung-over and looking my very worst, and in my underwear, no less. I square my shoulders and put on my game face. It's time to find out what the fuck is going on.

I find Edward sitting at my kitchen table. His hair looks a tad bit less disheveled, but his cocky, "I-know-something-that-you-don't" smirk makes me uneasy.

Instead of joining him at the table, I lean in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, keeping a comfortable distance so I can think straight.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?" I ask carefully.

His lips twitch with amusement. "What exactly _do_ you remember about last night?"

_Oh fuck me_…Is he going to play games, now?

I look around the room, trying to hide my building frustration. I decide to keep it vague.

"I remember…stuff," I reply weakly. Unfortunately, all of the "stuff" I remember is beyond embarrassing, and nothing I care to discuss.

He raises his eyebrows and strokes the stubble around his mouth with his thumb and forefingers. "Oh really? What kind of 'stuff' would that be?"

He's flustering me and he knows it. In fact, he's downright _enjoying _it.

I want to snap at him, but I can't really form a coherent thought because I am entirely too distracted by his mouth and the ever-present scruff on his face. I reflexively touch my lips and chin, and it feels a little sensitive…

_Chaffed,_ perhaps…

_Oh, good God_…

I _did_, didn't I.

_Holy fucking shit on a goddamn stick._

"I know you drove me home last night—which was very generous of you, by the way." I glance back at him, to see if I can get a read off of him, but the way he's looking at me makes me feel so vulnerable and exposed. It's downright disturbing the effect he has on me. "But that doesn't explain why you're still here."

Edward sighs, and all cockiness leaves his face. "I stayed because you asked me to."

I feel my jaw go slack, because that was certainly not the answer I expected. He watches me intently, waiting for a response…but all I can manage is a quiet, "Oh."

_He stayed because I asked him to…_

I hesitantly join him at the table, and his expression is guarded as I take a seat opposite him.

"I was worried about you," he tells me softly, and his honeyed voice knocks my defenses down. "You drank way too much last night, and I wanted to make sure you would be all right. You asked me to stay with you, so I stuck around on the couch in case you needed anything until Alice got home. But she never did, and I fell asleep."

I do an internal fist-pump for Alice, realizing that she got her man last night. And then I get a little pissed, because I have more than a sneaking suspicion that she set me up.

The little hussy.

I then take a good look at Edward. Without the smug grin, he looks so tired. I immediately feel guilty that he somehow got stuck babysitting me, and I wish I could make it up to him in some way.

"Thank you," I murmur sheepishly. "I should at least make it up to you by fixing you some breakfast or something." I glance at him, cautiously hopeful that he'll take me up on my offer, but fully expecting him to want to get home and go back to sleep.

His familiar crooked smile takes me by surprise. "I think it's the least you could do."

I smile and bite my lip, shaking my head at him. "Would you like some eggs?" I offer as I stand up and go to the fridge.

"Actually, I was wondering if you had any lasagna left," he asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, and I suppress a giggle.

"Really? Lasagna, for breakfast?" He just shrugs, so I check the freezer. "There's still a little bit left," I tell him, peering over my shoulder.

Green eyes lock with mine, and his irresistible smile holds steady.

He makes me forget that I am pretty sure I made a complete ass of myself last night and should be completely ashamed of myself.

He makes me forget that I haven't even showered, and I look like shit.

He even makes me forget the ever-present dull ache in my head and the rot-gut feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Because in spite of all of that, Edward is right here. In my apartment. Because I asked him to be.

"Must be my lucky day," he finally says.

_Oh, yes. Mine too._

**XXX**

"So, what year did you graduate from University of Washington?" Edward asks, looking up from his plate.

"Two-thousand-eight," I reply, and I take a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich. Grilled cheese is my go-to hangover food. I crave greasy, salty and crispy for some reason, and I found that it always hits the spot.

He nods thoughtfully. "So did you graduate from Forks High School in two-thousand-four, then?"

My eyes shoot up to meet his. Is he actually bringing up Forks? I'm completely taken aback. "Yes, I did," I answer carefully. Where is this going?

He nods again and leans forward on the table. "That explains a lot. I graduated high school in ninety-nine. I've been wondering how we managed to grow up in the same town without ever crossing paths. I'm quite sure I would have remembered you if we ever did." He flashes me a mischievous grin, and it makes my heart flutter. He's flirting with me…_oh, good God_…I feel my face growing hot again, and my eyes keep drifting to his lips.

His forehead creases, and he gazes at me intently. "Bella, how much do you remember from last night?"

I feel my face flame as embarrassment seeps into every fiber of my body. I draw in a deep breath and stare down at my sandwich like it's the most fascinating thing I've ever seen. I know he's waiting for me to say something, and I'm at a complete loss for words—at least any intelligent ones that I'd ever be willing to admit out loud.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," I mumble at my plate. "I don't usually drink that much, and those Long Island teas must have been really potent or something because I think I may have been a little bit out of control last night, but I swear—"

He interrupts my incessant rambling, saving me from shoving my foot any farther down my throat. "I didn't mind."

_What? Really?_

Wait—what exactly didn't he mind? Driving me home? Or umm...any of the other…_stuff_…I peer up at him through my lashes, and silently implore him to continue. "Which part?" I ask, but my voice sounds so small.

"Any of it," he answers simply.

"_Any_ any of it?" Fuck…I feel like I'm in eighth grade again. But I don't want to be the one to bring up the three-hundred pound gorilla in the room.

"I didn't mind _anything_ that happened last night, Bella." He leans closer, and the intensity in his eyes swallows me whole. "I find that I enjoy spending time with you. Very much, actually."

The air in the room just got heavier, and I'm now feeling…nervous. Like I'm suddenly aware of my breathing, and it's impossible to breathe naturally because of it.

"And I'd really like to spend more time with you, but I think there are a few things we need to discuss first."

I chew on my lip as I repeat his words in my head and wonder if he means what I _think_ he may mean. Or at least what I _hope_ he might mean.

I then realize that he's waiting for a response, and I'm doing that spazzy, spacing-out thing yet again.

"I'm sorry…I'm still processing the 'I didn't mind' part," I rasp. I take a deep breath. I look into his eyes, and they appear sincere. Maybe even hopeful.

He ruffles his hand through his hair as his gaze wanders around the room. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was actually a little uneasy.

I push my grilled cheese to the side and lean forward onto the table, mirroring his pose. "Okay, then. What is it that you want to discuss?"

His eyes return to mine, and they are just so beautiful. "Well, like I said, I'd really like the opportunity to get to know you better. To spend more time with you." He pauses and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then the jaw twitches.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the jaw twitch. For some reason, I find it sexy as hell. But I know what it means, and I don't want to see it right now.

It means there's a "but."

I internally roll my eyes at myself. _Of course there's a "but."_

"But," he begins, and my heart falls.

And I'm not going to let him do it. If he has a "you're a great girl, but—" speech lined up for me, there is no way I want to hear it and then have to work with him every call night.

"Edward, it's okay," I interrupt, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. "You don't owe me any explanations." The words kill me to say, and I gently push back in my chair, trying to figure out an escape from this painful turn of events.

His eyes widen, and he immediately grabs my hand as I'm about to stand up. His unexpected touch causes a tightening in my chest that takes me by surprise, and I'm frozen in place and completely confused.

"No, you don't understand," he immediately says. There is an underlying urgency in his voice, and he doesn't release me. I relax in my seat, staring at our joined hands, and then slowly bringing my eyes back to his.

"No, I don't understand," I answer softly. _Please explain, _I plead with my eyes.

"It's just that it's a little complicated_. _You do realize that I'm still technically one of your preceptors. It's not exactly appropriate for me to pursue one of my students."

"Do you want to pursue me?" I blurt out.

He licks his lips. Oh, those lips. I could write sonnets about those lips. "Yes. Very much so."

My heart does that stuttering thing again. The ovaries are squealing and jumping up and down, and the girlie bits are becoming increasingly interested in the conversation.

"I'm not working with you in the OR anymore," I protest. "Technically, I'm only going to be your student for a few more weeks. And only when I'm on call."

His lips curl into a small smile. "You're going back to Washington in a few months," he adds. "You do realize that I'm going to be staying here in New York for my fellowship."

"A lot can happen in a few months," I murmur, and I realize I'm leaning closer to him.

His thumb strokes mine ever so softly, sending delicious chills throughout my body, and he holds my gaze. I am trying so hard to keep my wits intact. I'm so lost in this moment with him, and I wish I could just freeze it. Keep it. I give his hand a light squeeze.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he releases me, curling his hand into a fist.

"There's one more thing," he says quietly, and something about his tone sends a painful pang through my chest.

I purse my lips and my brow furrows. Good God, the emotional rollercoaster this man is putting me through!

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I mutter, and I can't help but wonder if this is it, if this is the moment he tells me he's really in the witness protection program. Or that he has a baby-mama somewhere. Or that he was once a woman…please, please, _please _let me be wrong about the stilettos…

His eyes bore into me. "Remember I told you I was in a car accident?"

The crooked pinky. Of course I remember. I nod slowly.

"It happened a long time ago, about a month after I turned twenty-one. I was driving home pretty late one night. A deer ran into the road, and I guess it took me by surprise." He swallows thickly and shifts in his seat. "Even though I tried to avoid it, I lost control of my car. I ended up totaling both the car and the deer."

His whole body is tense, and though I feel badly, I don't quite understand what the big deal is. But I remain silent and patiently wait for him to continue.

"I got banged up pretty badly, but I was lucky. The worst injury I had was to my hand.

"The OnStar in my car alerted the police. Your father was the officer who responded to the accident."

Wait…_what?_

I sure didn't see that coming. Does Charlie have something to do with this?

"So this happened back in Forks, then?"

His jaw clenches again, and he nods. "I was on Highway 101, on my way back from a party at the beach."

My mouth forms a small "oh," as I realize the direction his story was heading. It was all starting to come together.

"When he found me, he could tell right away that I'd been drinking." He studies me, trying to gauge my reaction. I keep my expression neutral and sympathetic, but I'm cringing inside, because I know my father. I know how he can be about certain things. I know how he feels about drinking and driving…and by Edward's demeanor, I can guess that he does, too.

"For some reason, your father didn't give me a breathalyzer until after I was treated at the hospital, which was about two hours later. If he had tested me right away, I would have definitely gotten a DUI. I'll be forever grateful to him for that, because a DUI could have could have potentially hurt my chances of getting into med school.

"He didn't let me off all together, though. He gave me quite the memorable speech that night. He told me how irresponsible and reckless I was, and how lucky I was that I didn't kill myself or someone else. He made sure I knew exactly how little he thought of me."

I can only imagine what Charlie said to him, and I could tell by the pained look on his face that he's seriously filtering.

"Unfortunately, the accident just snowballed from there. My father was beyond furious and made no effort to hide his disappointment in me. It caused a tremendous amount of friction between us. And even though I didn't get an actual DUI, he made me pay what would have been the fine to charity. He made me take the eight-hour DUI class. He also took me off his car insurance policy. That—and the fact that I couldn't afford to replace my car— pretty much guaranteed that I couldn't drive again for a long, long time. That's one of the reasons why I chose to go to medical school in New York City, because it has a good public transportation system, and I didn't need a car for anything."

I sit and listen, watching him fidget with his food, toy with his fork, run his hands through his hair. His body language and facial expressions convey just as much as his words— his embarrassment, his regret, even his shame.

I want to comfort him. Reassure him that people are allowed to make mistakes. Tell Edward I don't care what my father thinks, and that I think he's wonderful.

Because he is wonderful. He really is. I wish I could actually tell him that.

But I can't.

"I'm sorry that happened, Edward. I really am. But that was so long ago. And look where you are now. Even with that funkadelic pinky of yours, your hands are so amazingly talented."

Edward's eyes flash to mine, and a completely unexpected wicked smile plays across his lips. "Amazingly talented hands, hmm?"

Oh, good God…rendered speechless…maybe because my foot is in the way…Goddamn, it's fucking hot in here!

"I'm getting some more water," I announce as I stand abruptly. "Do you want some too? Here, I'll get you some…"

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

Avoiding all eye contact, I retreat to the fridge, where I just stand in front of it and stare while I let the cool air wash over me. I have an overwhelming urge to bang my head against something.

I take two water bottles out, and as I close the door, I feel a pair of hands settle on my hips. It catches me completely off guard, and my breath hitches as my heart instantly goes into overdrive.

"I tried to keep a respectable distance, Bella. But you make it impossible." His voice is low and husky. Oh, good God, what it does to me…"I don't have the energy to stay away from you anymore."

He's standing right behind me, and my body leans back into his completely on its own accord. I feel his fingers press lightly into my hips, and I am so incredibly aroused at this moment that I actually have to make a conscious effort to breathe.

_Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale…_

He dips his head down and grazes his nose from my temple down to my cheek, his soft stubble tickling me and sending chills up and down my spine, and he finally deposits the softest kiss just in front of my ear.

I simply melt. Just a little.

He lingers there for the briefest moment, and I revel in the delicious warmth of his skin next to mine. He then emits a low, soft groan and pulls away.

"I have to go."

_What?_

I want to protest. Every hormone-ridden cell in my body wants to protest. I turn around quickly. My eyes plead with his, but I see conflict and indecision written all over his face.

"It doesn't matter," I say gently. "Whatever my father said to you all those years ago. Or any of your other reasons. They don't matter." Because I want this. Whatever _this _is, I really, really want it.

He sighs and searches my face. I can't think. Or breathe. I'm not even sure if my heart is beating anymore.

He shakes his head slowly and brings his hand up to my face, cradling my cheek. He then dips his face closer to mine, hesitating for a moment, as if he's waiting for my acceptance.

_Yes, yes, YES! _My brain screams at the top of its lungs, praying he'll get the message.

And he does, because before I can completely die from the anticipation, he brings his lips to mine and softly brushes them, pausing for a second before dazzling me with the lightest yet most electrifying kiss.

A kiss that I can feel all the way down to my curling toes.

And now I am quite certain my heart is beating, because it feels as if it will burst right out of my chest.

But just as the girlie bits push the brain out of the way and jump into the driver's seat with a resounding "hell yeah," he pulls away again.

_God-fucking-damnit!_

I try to pull myself out of my haze as I refocus on his face. I wonder if it's possible, but his eyes seem so much darker, and the look on his face alone could make me self-combust. His lips twitch a bit, and the corner of his mouth lifts into the sexiest, _cockiest_, "I-know-what-kind-of-effect-I-have-on-you" smirk.

_Fucker._

"I really have to go now," he says and backs away. The girlie bits are downright pissed, but at least my brain steps in and takes the wheel again.

And my brain is reasoning that he's right. He does have to go. The ovaries and the girlie bits flip brain the bird.

I follow him silently to my door. He turns to me as he opens it. "Thank you for breakfast," he says with a warm smile.

I return the smile. "Thank you for taking me home. And, you know, umm…all the other…stuff." Babbling. I'm a fucking babbling idiot.

His smile broadens. "It was my pleasure."

As he's about to walk out the door, he pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. "Oh, and, Bella?"

I furrow my brow. "Yeah?"

He flashes me a playful grin. "Thank you for wearing boy shorts. I like the polka dots."

And with that, he's gone. Leaving me slack-jawed, speechless, and completely breathless.

* * *

><p><strong>SM owns Twilight. I'm so happy she lets us play with her characters.<strong>

**Long-ass A/N:**

I hope that answers a few questions you guys had out there. Edward and Bella are about 5 years apart, so they really wouldn't have crossed paths back in Forks. And regarding Edward's past, more will be explained in the next chapter : )

I have to take a moment to give my sincerest, undying gratitude to a few lovely and wonderful authors who rec'd this story out. Not that I'm a name dropper or anything (*cough* solostintwilight, NJNYTwiGals, DiamondHeart78 *cough,cough*). You rocked my world!

And thanks so much to all of you who are reading. You guys blow me away! Your reviews, alerts, tweets and recs make me want to break into song : )

Oh, and just one more thing. I just want to send out some love to the Lemon h00rs, who have been so much fun and even started a thread on Twilighted (link is on my profile). I luuuuurve you guys! Also to a certain someone who is inspiring my soul with RobP0rn and foodie-goodies ; ) Chocolate Stout floats to all! xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

Hey there! Sorry this chapter was so delayed : (

Many thanks to my wonderful prereaders, Prettyflour and NKubie, and to mcc101180 and loveofescapism, betas extraordinaire.

**SM owns Twilight. Dr. Jackass and his pager are mine, mine mine. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

"Well, well, well. The little tart has finally made it home." Alice waltzes in the door with a dreamy, self-satisfied smirk at around three in the afternoon.

"Spill, woman!" I demand. She drapes herself across the couch, and I plop down next to her.

She just grins and stretches languorously. "I am so deliciously exhausted."

I open my mouth to grill her for details, but she beats me to the punch. "I'm not saying anything until you tell me what happened after Dr. Fuck-Me went all caveman on your ass and dragged you home."

I feel my cheeks flame as the embarrassment floods back through me. Alice perks up and examines my face. "Something did happen! Tell me everything!"

I slump a bit in my seat, folding my arms across my chest. "There's really not much to tell. And I can't believe you totally set me up! Like you couldn't warn me about the Long Island iced teas?" I snap at her. "I made a total ass out of myself last night!"

"They are pretty potent, aren't they?" Alice giggles. "You certainly were in rare form."

"Yeah, and that's usually your job. But obviously you were a bit _distracted_." I bat my eyelashes and make kissy-faces at her, earning me a light whack with a throw pillow.

"Quit deflecting. You really think I'm that easily sidetracked?"

_Damnit._ Usually, yes.

I give in and tell the pared down, least embarrassing details of what I clearly remember—leaving out Edward's accident, of course. It occurs to me that everything between us was left up in the air, and I have no idea where this leaves us.

"I don't know…First he says he wants to pursue a relationship with me, and then he starts spewing off all of these reasons he shouldn't. I don't know what to make of it."

His concern with my father doesn't bother me. The only issue that really concerns me is the fact that he will be staying in New York. That, and the fact that he didn't seem willing to start anything until after I finish my rotation—which is still four weeks away—put a real damper on my horny Cullen buzz.

"So what?"

I stare at her dumbly. She seriously can't be that insensitive, can she? "What do you mean, 'so what?' Why would I want to start anything if it's doomed from the beginning?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "I mean, so what," she repeats flatly. "Why does a relationship have to be all serious and 'til death do we part'?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "I didn't say that," I retort, and my voice sounds a bit too defensive.

"Then what's the problem? Why not have a little fun with Dr. Fuck-Me and see what happens? He's from Forks, too, right? Does he have any family there anymore? Maybe it doesn't have to end once you go home."

I shake my head. "He does still have family in Forks, but that doesn't matter to me." I think back to Jacob and grimace. "I did the long distance relationship thing once, and it sucks balls. I vowed never to do that again."

Wait—why am I suddenly talking myself out of this?

Alice gives me a pointed look. "Listen, Swan. Can you honestly tell me that you would be able to pass up the opportunity to be with a man like that? I mean it. When you're old and drooling on yourself in some nursing home somewhere, do you want to be kicking yourself, saying, 'Damn it! Why didn't I fuck that hot piece of mancake when I had the chance?' Do you really think you can live with _that_?"

I actually snort out loud. Now that's a disturbing visual.

Alice sits up. "Seize the day! Carpe diem and all that shit! Go get your man, Bella!"

"Damn, woman! You get awfully feisty when you get laid, don't you?" I giggle. This is yet another reason why you just gotta love Alice.

She answers with a wicked grin. "Yep. Three orgasms will do that to a girl."

My jaw drops. "Hot damn," I mutter. "I think I'm jealous."

"Oh, you have every reason to be. So maybe you should think twice before throwing away the opportunity to get a few. I'm sure the good doctor is more than willing to extend a helping hand in that department." She stands and stretches again; purely for dramatic effect I'm sure. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to bed. And this time, actually sleep."

Yes. Most definitely jealous.

I watch Alice as she saunters over to her room, as her little "carpe diem" speech resonates through my mind.

I am a big believer in living with no regrets.

Which would I regret more; taking the plunge and accepting whatever I can have with Edward, or taking the safe route and backing off?

They say the heart wants what the heart wants. _Or maybe it should be the ovaries want what the ovaries want_. I almost laugh at myself to think I even have a choice in the matter.

**XXX**

It amazes me sometimes the way my mind wanders. Especially when I'm stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

I have this theory that clothing shrinks if left in the closet for a while. I'm quite certain that fabric fibers contract with disuse or something. Denim seems to be especially susceptible to this phenomenon.

I am now wondering if this theory could apply to vaginas, too. I mean, I am well aware that hymens don't regenerate. But I can't help but speculate whether the insides of my lady parts have reverted back to their "original" state due to long-time lack of use.

And why would I be thinking of such things?

Oh, no particular reason.

I am a bundle of nervous energy on my drive to the hospital this Monday morning. Not only do I start my first day in Labor and Delivery with the infamous Dr. McCarty—which, I am sure, will be very interesting—but I'm also on call again tonight.

With Edward.

With Edward and a lonely on-call room.

A girl's mind can wander to some pretty interesting places with _that_ equation.

Though that makes me wonder where my dirty little mind is actually allowed to go. I'm rather befuddled after my last exchange with Dr. Enigmatic, and I'm at a loss as to where we actually left things.

_Must resist urge to re-analyze the situation again_. That's all I've been doing for the past twenty-four hours. It's ridiculously pathetic. And it isn't getting me anywhere but more confused…and sexually frustrated.

But good God, is it too much to hope there will at least be more kissing? And soon? The ovaries, girlie-bits, and brain are in unanimous agreement about that.

**XXX**

Seeing Jasper and Alice together at morning rounds feels more than a little bit odd, mainly because I can't look Jasper in the eye without being reminded of Alice's "triple O" comment.

I try really, really hard not to be jealous of the way they look at each other, and I remind myself that their relationship was a long time coming.

…_a long time coming…_

_No_. I did _not_ just think that.

I mumble a quick "later" as I hurry off to begin my patient rounds. This is going to be a long day. I can feel it.

I make it over to L&D after I finish and find Emmett at the nurses' station writing in a chart.

"Dr. McCarty?" I say tentatively. I'm sure he remembers that I'll be working with him for the next two weeks.

"Bella!" He greets me with a low chuckle. "I've been expecting you. I even have the smelling salts ready," he teases, and actually pulls out a small vial from his lab coat pocket.

"Oh, you're real proud of yourself for that one, aren't you?" I quirk my eyebrow and scowl at him. "That bit is getting a tad old, don't you think?"

He grins, flashing those dimples. How can anyone be annoyed at an overgrown twelve-year-old with dimples? "Oh, it will never get old, Bella. Trust me. But if it ever does, you gave me a whole slew of new material to work with last weekend."

I do a mental face-palm and groan at the realization that this is going to be a very, _very_ long day indeed.

Despite the fact that Emmett is indeed an immature mutant, he is great to work with, and I'm absolutely loving Labor and Delivery. Emmett has a wonderful, buoyant bedside manner, and he obviously enjoys what he does and seems to like teaching as well. He lets me do as much as I want to do, and he even allows me to assist the first delivery of the day.

Emmett also has me starting all the IVs for the new admissions. I'm thrilled, because it's great practice—but it unnerves me that he seems to enjoy watching over my shoulder once he notices my tremor. Which of course, makes the tremor even worse. It pisses me off—and I tell him so—but he just laughs it off and tells me I'm a freak of nature, and he can't understand how it's physically possible that I get each IV in on the first try every single time.

Stupid Jolly-Green-Giant.

Lunchtime actually sneaks up on me, which surprises the hell out of me considering I usually live for my next meal. Alice texts me and says to meet her in the residents' lounge. Emmett accompanies me, and when we get there, Alice and Jasper are already there.

And so is Edward.

With his mad sex-hair.

And his beautiful, sonnet-worthy lips.

And his amazing green eyes…which capture mine immediately.

I get a fleeting sense of déjà-vu. Only this time, instead of making me feel like I want to crawl under the nearest rock, his gaze causes a delicious warmth in my chest that sends my heart racing and makes me lick my suddenly dry lips.

"Hey, Emmett," he says, but doesn't take his eyes off of me. "Bella," he adds softly with a slight nod, and the left corner of his lips lift into a tasty little smirk.

I'm semi-aware of conversation going on between Alice and Emmett, but all I hear is "Blah, blah, blah…_pizza_…blah, blah, blah-blah blah…"

Have I mentioned before that Edward has absolutely delectable lips?

"Are you okay with that, Bella?"

_Shit._ I'm being addressed. I pull my eyes away from Edward's tractor beam and redirect them to Alice. "Sounds good," I quickly reply, and she stares blankly at me.

"Really? You'll actually go for sushi?" she asks, incredulous.

_Fuck!_ Where did that come from? I thought I was agreeing to pizza! Weren't they talking about pizza? My eyes dart around to each person in the room, each watching me expectantly. "Umm…sure. They have cooked food too, right? Like chicken teriyaki or something?"

Edward shakes his head. "No, this place only serves sushi. But they have cooked rolls, of course. It's very good."

I chew on my lip nervously, my stomach rolling a bit.

I don't _do _sushi. It reminds me of the stuff my dad used as bait for fishing. And I have no desire to eat anything rolled in seaweed, either. The thought alone makes me want to gag. Alice has been harassing me to try it since we moved in together, but there are some things I just won't do.

"Oh, well, umm…" I shoot Alice a dirty look when I notice she's actually enjoying this. Her smug fuckery inspires me to stand up for myself. "Didn't you guys say something about pizza?"

"Oh, Bella. You're such a chickenshit."

_Fucking Alice. As soon as I get home, I'm going to throw away her coffee maker._

"Eh, I'm with you," Emmett says. "That yuppie crap never fills me up, anyway. Pizza works for me." He flashes me a smile, and at that moment, I decide that I officially adore Emmett.

Lunch at the pizza place is…interesting. First of all, watching Emmett eat is an experience in and of itself. He orders three slices of Sicilian, and I swear—he eats each piece in four or five monstrous bites. I watch him in awe, wondering how he doesn't choke.

Alice and Jasper are in their own little love bubble. If I weren't so happy for them, they'd make me nauseous.

Okay, they are making me a little bit nauseous.

And then there is Edward.

Edward sits across from me, chatting mostly with Emmett but also including the rest of us. Every now and again, I feel his foot brush against mine as he shifts his long legs, which is driving me kind of crazy. I seem to have developed restless leg syndrome myself, because my legs don't seem to want to stay still, and my left foot keeps on bouncing.

"So, how are you liking Labor and Delivery, Bella?" Edward asks.

Emmett pipes in immediately. "I'm really proud of her. I haven't needed the smelling salts once. But the day is still young."

Alice snickers, and I roll my eyes. "Definitely getting old, Emmett," I mutter, and give him the stink-eye.

"Oh no, I think it's still got some mileage left in it. Unless you'd prefer to talk about the other night at the bar," he quips wickedly. "Would you rather discuss what happened after the E-Man took you home?"

Edward chimes in immediately as my face practically goes up in flames. "How about we discuss how many times you and Rosalie got caught in the—"

"So, Jasper!" I interrupt. "Are you happier now that you're finished with the Cooch Clinic?"

Jasper laughs. "Much. I'm definitely happy to be in the OR," he replies definitively, and I'm so relieved for the subject change. From there, we derail from the Bella-bashing wagon and stay in safer waters for the remainder of the short lunch break.

Once we get back to the hospital, everyone says quick goodbyes before dispersing back to work. Edward turns to me before leaving. "I'll see you later tonight, Bella."

I bite my lip and nod. And being the complete dork that I am, I'll be counting down the minutes.

**XXX**

During a delivery later that afternoon, Emmett warns me that he's going to have to perform an episiotomy and shoots me a concerned look. "You okay?" he asks after he hands the wailing new baby girl off to the nurse.

"I know you're just dying for an excuse to use those smelling salts, but I'm really fine," I assure him. "I really think it was just the initial shock the first time."

Emmett grins at me and raises his eyebrows. "All right, then," he nods, and proceeds to suture the episiotomy while he chats pleasantly with the mother.

I was right, because this time, luckily, it doesn't bother me at all. Which is a good thing—because mid-way through, Emmett stops and turns to me.

"Think you can finish this up for me?" he asks.

I stare at him wide-eyed to see if he's just looking for a reaction or if he's actually serious.

"Really?" I ask, dubious.

He offers me the suturing material and the needle-holder. "Cullen told me you've been practicing a lot. He says you're pretty good."

_He did?_

I'm dumbfounded and unexpectedly overcome with a strange emotion. I almost want to hug Emmett right now, and I can't even put into words what I want to do to Edward.

Instead, I just smile and graciously take the instrument from him. I take a deep breath and try to focus and control my tremor while he patiently watches me finish the repair.

By the end of my first full day in Labor and Delivery, I'm riding on a euphoric high. I absolutely loved following the patients from their initial admission in early labor all the way through to their deliveries. I can completely understand why doctors specialize in OB/GYN now. There is nothing I've done in medicine up to this point that compares with the feeling you get after watching a new mother holding a just-born baby in her arms for the first time, and knowing you played a part in getting her to that moment.

"Ya done good today, kid," Emmett tells me as we finish up for the day, giving me a gentle nudge with his elbow.

I smile broadly at him. "Thanks," I answer simply, but his compliment makes my day. "Thanks for everything, actually."

He just grins back with a small grunt of acknowledgement. Emmett kind of reminds me of a big teddy bear. I'm going to enjoy working with him for the next two weeks. "You're on call tonight, aren't you?"

I just nod in response. I feel a flutter of nervous butterflies knowing I'll be spending the night with Edward…Well, sort of.

"Rose is on tonight. I'm gonna go say hi." He puts on his lab coat, and when he looks back at me, I see a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Tell Cullen to give me a call tomorrow."

I cock my eyebrow at him. "Sure thing, Emmett. Have a good night. I'll see you Wednesday."

As I head over to the residents' lounge, the nervous flutters intensify to an almost sick feeling in my gut. I need to pull myself together.

I'm being absolutely ridiculous. There is nothing to be nervous about.

_Right?_

But—I wonder if Edward will act any differently toward me?

What if he changed his mind? What if he regrets kissing me? What if he just pretends nothing ever happened?

I stop dead in my tracks as I realize that not only are my hands trembling out of control, but I almost feel like the rest of my body is as well.

_I'm being ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about._ I chant this repeatedly in my head as I take several deep breaths before entering the residents' lounge.

And sure enough, there's Dr. Fuck-Me, sitting at the large table with his laptop. He glances up at me as I walk in, and my heart predictably goes into overdrive.

"How was your day, dear?" he asks cheekily and greets me with my favorite asymmetrical grin. "What's for dinner?"

I immediately smile and roll my eyes, more at myself than at Edward. I relax in spite of all my stupid neuroses. I was so afraid that things would be weird between us, but he's still the same food-grubbing wiseass he was before.

"Meatloaf," I answer. I notice his smile instantly falls.

"Meatloaf?" he repeats, and he makes it sound like I just told him I was serving something repulsive. Like raw fish wrapped in seaweed.

"Meatloaf," I confirm, and my brow furrows. "Something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing." His jaw twitches and he rubs the back of his neck. _Liar. _"It's just that…" I watch him and wait. He looks uncomfortable. "Nothing."

I cock my eyebrow. "You don't have to eat it, you know. It won't hurt my feelings."

Now I'm lying. It would totally hurt my feelings.

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head. "No, no. I want your meatloaf." His lips twitch into that fuckhot smirk of his. "I _really_ want it."

I immediately flush and sweat, and I curse at myself for letting him get the best of me again.

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

I go to the fridge and pull out dinner, then pop the containers into the microwave. I keep my back to him while I wait for the food to heat.

"So I take it you're not a big meatloaf fan?" I finally say. I can't say I'm not disappointed. I have to confess—I made it specifically with him in mind.

"Well, the only meatloaf I've ever had was my mother's. And I can't say that turkey and tofu meatloaf was my favorite food."

_Turkey and tofu? _ Yeesh. No wonder why he doesn't like it.

I take the dishes from the microwave and place one of them in front of him. "I promise you, this is _not_ your mother's meatloaf."

Charlie had once asked me to make meatloaf for his birthday one year. My mom was not the best cook in the world, to put it lightly, so as I got older and more into cooking, my dad would request me to do it more and more often. I had found a great recipe—through The Food Network, of course—and doctored it up to my own taste. It became one of my parents' favorites. Even I have to admit—it's really, _really_ good.

He inhales the aroma and smiles at the three large slices. "No, I have a feeling it's not."

I watch with nervous anticipation as he takes a small, tentative bite. He instantly smiles and lets his eyes roll back into his head. "Holy fuck, Bella. This definitely is _not _my mother's meatloaf," he gushes, and I relish the surge of pleasant satisfaction that floods through me.

Just as I'm about to take a bite, the lounge door flies open. "Hey, guys," Emmett's deep voice greets us. "Damn, it smells really good in here."

Emmett joins us at the table and eyes our food. "Where did you get that from?"

I chuckle to myself, but Edward glowers at him. "Nowhere," he replies quickly. "What's going on, Em?"

"You bring that from home?" he continues, and I see Edward grimace while Emmett winks at me with a sly grin. "No, I know Edward didn't bring this, so it must be you, Bells."

"Mmmhm. Want a taste?" I offer. I suddenly feel a little awkward that my food-bribery has been discovered.

"Well, I see you have extra there." He ogles Edward's plate, and Edward does not like it one bit. His jaw is twitching like crazy, and he takes another big bite, possessively marking his territory. "That was awfully generous of you to bring some for Edward, too."

Edward looks like a dog that will defend his food to the death. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" he grumbles menacingly.

Emmett ignores him, and his grin broadens and his dimples deepen. "Especially after the whole pager ordeal."

Edward blanches, and the look he gives Emmett is downright lethal. I look between the two of them impatiently. "_What_ pager ordeal?"

Emmett lets out a deep chuckle. "You mean the E-man over here didn't tell you he had me paging him while he was in the OR last week? Just so a certain cute PA student could fish his pager out of his pocket?"

My jaw drops open, and I realize I'm gaping like a fish.

It was Emmett. Each. Fucking. Time.

_That's_ why Edward didn't have me call back the second page.

_Stupid, arrogant, green-eyed jackass! _

I turn to Edward, who looks extremely pissed, but a smug smile is winning over his face.

"You!" I hiss angrily. "You didn't!"

Edward looks away with a now full-fledged guilty smirk as he runs his fingers through his hair.

I'm speechless as I glance back and forth between Emmett and Edward, who both look way too amused for my liking.

I shake my head, my jaw clenched so tight I'm afraid I'll break a molar. "Why you—"

"I know. He's a complete jerk. That was completely unprofessional." Emmett happily adds fuel to the fire. "He doesn't deserve your cooking, Bella. I think you should give it to me, instead."

I am beyond pissed at the both of them, but Emmett is just too funny. I bite the inside of my cheek to fight back a smile. "So that's what this is all about, Emmett? You'll throw your buddy under the bus for some food?"

"In a heartbeat," Emmett replies, grinning like a madman.

The scene really is incredibly comical. Edward looks like he wants to knock Emmett unconscious and has his forearm protectively wrapped around his dish. Emmett is enjoying this way too much, and I just want to take the both of them by the hair and knock their heads together.

Now _that's _a visual I actually enjoy.

I stand up and take my dinner with me. "You know what? You're both complete jackasses. I'm going to eat in the cafeteria. _In peace._ Page me if there's anything going on. You want some meatloaf, Emmett? Knock yourself out."

And with that, I take my food and my lab coat and go, leaving the two fools to fight it out while I plot my revenge.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hehe. Looks like he's been demoted back to Dr. Jackass. Gotta love Emmett ; ) Surprised?

For the record, I do _not_ share Bella's view on sushi.

And I gotta say it again. You guys out there in fanficland are wonderful. Your recs, reviews, emails and tweets make me stupid-giddy. Really.

Positively 4th Street, xrxdanixrx, dontrun, rabia—your recs slayed me. Thank you. And solostintwilight's review of ToB on The Lemonade Stand? Better than nutella. S'all I can say.

Thank you all so much for reading. Have a great weekend, everyone : )


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey there! I have to thank my wonderful friend sabriel017 for beta-ing this chapter for me so I could get it out to you lovely people sooner. Also many, many thanks to Prettyflour and NKubie for being the most amazing prereaders a gal could ever ask for.**

**And of course, all my love to Pennyloafer and Beccagold. They know why.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

That little shit.

My mind is racing as I sit in the cafeteria poking around at my meatloaf.

I should be pissed. Really, _really_ pissed.

But am I?

I'm not exactly sure. If anything, I'm actually…pleased. Does it make me a little twisted that I _like_ the fact that Edward went to such lengths to mess with me?

I toss this around in my head for a while, when the sound of a chair scraping across the floor startles me. I quickly look up and find myself face to face with Dr. Fucks-With-Me.

I draw in a deep breath and wait to see what he has to say. I notice he brought his food with him.

"You're not really mad, are you?" he asks softly. Velvet voice is in full effect. He looks a little nervous.

_Good._

I glance around the room. I'm not sure what I want to say. Am I mad?

_Nah._

Do I want him to squirm a little, just like he made me?

_Hell fucking yes._

I give myself a moment to put my thoughts together. I can see his sexy masseter muscle twitching away.

Am I enjoying this a little?

Oh, yeah. _Game on, baby._

I glance up at him and give him a pointed look. "I never expected a guy like you would need to take such drastic measures to get a girl into your pants."

_Ha_. I'm rather pleased with myself for that one.

A smug smile creeps across his lips. "A guy like me? And exactly what kind of guy would that be?"

I roll my eyes and bite back a grin. "Cocky. Arrogant. Immature. Jackass." The grin breaks loose. "Would you like me to continue?"

"Well, you left out charming." That earns him an eye-roll. "And generous."

What?

While I'm stumbling for a response, he quickly reaches into his messenger bag, pulls out something, and tosses it to me. I'm surprised to see that it's a bag of Hershey's Dark Chocolate minis.

Hershey's makes a bag of dark chocolate minis? With dark chocolate Krackel and dark chocolate Mr. Goodbar? How did I not know about this?

"I figured the least I could do was bring dessert. I saw these and thought they'd be right up your alley."

He brought me dessert. Not just dessert, but dark chocolate.

I may have swooned. Just a little.

"I know it may have been a little juvenile," he admits with a sly grin and leans closer, resting on his lovely forearms. "But I couldn't help myself. It's your fault, you know. Your blush is downright irresistible. If you weren't so damn pretty, I would have left you alone."

Oh good God…_yes, most definitely swooning_. And the room just got a few degrees warmer. I should be absolutely ashamed of myself to let his cheesiness affect me this way.

I never knew I was so easy.

He pulls out all the stops, flashing beautiful green puppy-dog eyes. "Forgive me?"

I bite at my lip, not wanting to give in so easily. "How can I if you never actually apologized?"

"The chocolates weren't enough?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "They were a good start."

He grins again. "All right, then. I'm sorry."

I take in the smug smirk, and I quirk an eyebrow at him. "No, you're really not."

His smile broadens. "You're right. I'm not. I'd do it all over again without giving it a second thought."

His shmexy grin is making me weak. I let out a dramatic sigh and shake my head. Edward moistens his lips—a new little Edwardism that I'm noticing he does more and more—and I nearly come undone. I'm _this close_ to crawling over the table and molesting him. I have to change gears.

"I see your dinner survived Emmett. How did you manage to keep him off your plate?" I ask.

He chuckles. "I made sure he wouldn't want it."

"Oh really? How so?"

He flashes a wicked grin. "I licked it."

I actually snort and almost choke on my own spit. The evil ovaries remind me of his earlier suggestive comment about wanting my meatloaf, and now all I can think is…_Edward licked my meatloaf._

I put my hands over my red-hot face and shake my head in disbelief.

I peek through my fingers at him, and Edward waggles his eyebrows. "I fight dirty."

Oh, yes you do, Edward. You certainly do.

XXX

The night seems to fly by. I'm getting used to the routine, and now that I know what is expected of me it makes everything go smoothly. I'm a tad bit resentful that it's so busy because I was foolishly hoping to spend some time alone with Edward, but I realize that's not exactly realistic. The floor settles down around eleven, and by the time we head back to the lounge, I'm dragging.

I flop onto the couch and Edward studies me, concerned. "Why don't you go get some rest? The floor is quiet."

_No_. I finally have a moment alone with him, and I don't want to waste it. "I'm fine," I say simply.

For a moment he looks like he wants to protest, but instead, he settles into the chair next to me, leaning back and extending his long legs out in front of him. "Are you always this stubborn?" he asks with a wry grin.

"Are you always this bossy?" I counter, returning his smile.

Edward holds my gaze. He then rests his head on the back of the chair and looks up at the ceiling while raking his hand through his crazy sex-hair.

"What am I going to do with you, Swan?" he says with a sigh.

I bite my lip. "I could offer a few suggestions," I actually say out loud, because I'm overtired and horny and I have no fucking filter.

His head jerks forward as he looks at me with a surprised and amused expression. I'm immediately embarrassed, and suddenly wish I could take the words back.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Um, yeah…you're right. I'm going to turn in. You can, you know, page me if you want me. I mean need me…you know, if there's a case…" I realize that I need to shut up and disappear. I stand up abruptly and awkwardly, but I'm caught off guard as Edward follows and gently grabs my wrist.

He watches me intently as I turn toward him. He releases my wrist, and his lovely fingers slowly graze up my bare arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake…he then cradles my chin, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. I don't even dare to breathe as he lowers his lips to mine, placing a delicate kiss on the right corner of my mouth.

And another on the left corner.

Then finally placing a tender, but all too brief, kiss square on my lips. He pulls back enough to look at me.

"I have quite a few ideas of my own, Bella. None of which are appropriate right now."

_My, oh my_.

He takes a step back, and I'm mentally cursing at the injustice of it all as the moment slips away.

"I was hoping, if you're not too tired tomorrow, we could do breakfast again," he offers.

Mouth seems to have forgotten how to work, so I just nod.

"Good," he answers with a gentle smile. "Now please, go get some sleep."

I don't argue…I just murmur a barely intelligible "good night," as I wander to my call room in a bit of a daze.

XXX

Though I was keeping my fingers crossed to get a page during the night, such was not the case, and my alarm wakes me with a start. I feel that familiar nervous excitement in my belly at the anticipation of spending time with Edward outside the hospital.

I chat briefly with Alice and Jasper, present my morning cases to Baker without a hitch, and rush off to get through my morning rounds. I actually enjoy them because they are now all postpartum patients I know from L&D.

I finish up and head back to the lounge. I can't help but smile when I see that he's already there, waiting for me. He looks up from his laptop when he hears me enter.

"Hey," is all I can come up with. Brilliant.

"Hey," he answers with his wonderful lopsided smirk. "Hungry?"

_In more ways than you can imagine_. I stifle a giggle.

"Famished."

"Pancakes?"

"Definitely."

The diner is less crowded than the last time, probably because it is early in the morning on a weekday. Edward orders his omelet, and I get the shimmy-worthy blueberry pancakes again.

"So, tell me a little bit about yourself."

My brow furrows and I grin. "Is this an interview?" I ask.

He grins back. "Isn't this customary? The whole, 'getting to know you' ritual?"

I giggle. The good doctor seems a little socially awkward. It's kind of… sweet. "Of course. I wouldn't want to stray from protocol. What would you like to know?"

He taps his lip while he thinks. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," I blurt immediately. _Specifically the shade of your eyes._ "Yours?"

He smirks. "Chocolate brown." _Damnit_. Cheeky bastard. "Favorite Movie?"

I think for a moment. I have quite a few, but one immediately pops into my head. "_Pretty Woman_."

He chuckles softly. "Old school romantic, eh?"

I shake my head. "Nah, I just have a thing for prostitutes." He snorts. "What's your favorite movie?"

"_The Shawshank Redemption,_" he replies without hesitation.

"Oooh, good one! I must have seen that at least 6 times."

The waitress then shows up with our food. Before I begin to butter up my pancakes, I ask if he'd like any. He politely declines. He's about to cut into his omelet when he hesitates and looks up at me. "Would you like to try some?"

Well, color me stupefied.

"Sure…thank you."

He cuts a piece and places it on my plate. "You should be honored. I don't usually share my food."

_I noticed_. "Oh, believe me, I definitely am. Why is that?"

He just shrugs. "I don't know. Only child syndrome or something."

"Hmm…I don't know about that. I'm an only child too, you know," I challenge.

He gives me that sly grin. "Well, you're just special."

"So I've heard," I reply dryly, and I turn my attention to my wonderful blueberry pancake heaven.

We eat and continue the getting-to-know-you discussion. Edward is surprisingly easy to talk to, and the conversation flows freely and effortlessly. Once we're finished and waiting for our check, Edward studies me curiously and leans closer. "Tell me something unique about yourself that no one else would know."

I'm slightly taken aback by his unusual question. I mull it over it for a moment. "I need to think about it. You first," I counter.

"Well, I learned my alphabet backwards before I learned it the right way," he says.

"Really? How?"

"I had this little desk that had the alphabet painted across the top of it. Apparently I learned it from right to left."

How cute. I chuckle softly. "Maybe you were Hebrew in a previous life."

He smiles. "That's an interesting possibility. Your turn."

I grimace with frustration. "I can't think of anything that unique."

"Oh, come on. There has to be something," he persists.

I chew on my lip as I try to come up with something while he watches me expectantly. Only one thing comes to mind, and it's stupid as hell.

"Waiting…"

I groan. "The only unique thing that comes to mind is that I have a freckle between two of my toes. I found it when I was maybe four years old, and I remember trying to scrub it off in the bath because I thought it was just dirt."

He laughs. "That's awesome," he says, and I can't believe I just embarrassed myself. "Though now I kind of wish you hadn't told me that."

Great. Now he realizes that I really _am_ special. "Sorry, didn't mean to blemish your image of me."

"Oh, it's not that at all," he says and licks his lips…_good God, those lips_…"It's just that now I want to see it. And it makes me want to inspect you for any other distinguishing markings."

_Oh. Mah. Gawd_. I think my panties just incinerated.

I can feel the all-too-familiar heat in my cheeks, as well as in some _other_ parts of my anatomy, and I cannot think of a single intelligible response.

Edward shakes his head and scrubs the back of his neck. "You're killing me, Bella," he says softly. "How many more weeks do you have left on this rotation?"

"Three-and-a-half. But why does that matter?" My voice sounds pleading and whiny. I'm so pathetic.

"Because you're still my student. Because it's difficult enough to keep my hands off you as it is. And because I don't want to feel like I'm sneaking around with you. You deserve better than that."

_Fuck._

I want to pout. I want to protest. I want to tell him to get over his stupid moral bullshit.

But I can't. He's trying to do the right thing. I can't let the fucking ovaries drive the bus. So I just resign to let them continue back seat driving and pray that the next three-and-a-half weeks go by very, _very _fast.

Edward walks me back to my car, and after a quick glance around, he leaves me with an increasingly frustrating, chaste kiss goodbye.

This is going to be the longest rotation _ever_.

XXX

Wednesday morning, Alice, Jasper, and I meet at the auditorium for Grand Rounds. As I take a seat, my eyes start doing their customary Edward search…but he's nowhere to be found. My disappointment feels frivolous and immature, so I swallow it down and decide to actually pay attention to the lecture.

That resolution is pathetically short-lived, because a mere moment later, someone takes the seat next to me as the lights dim. I know without even looking that it's Edward.

Every cell in my body knows it and hums with hyperawareness of his presence.

I keep my eyes trained on the lecture, but every other part of me is focused on him.

On his breathing. And I wonder if it's as labored as mine.

On his right leg, which brushes up against the leg I have crossed toward him.

On his arms, which he folds across his chest.

On his lovely long fingers, which every so often brush my arm and cause an odd twinge in my belly.

I spend the lecture thinking about those fingers.

And his lips.

For the next hour I imagine all of the places I want them to be.

By the time the lecture ends and the lights come up, I am a hopelessly aroused hot mess.

"That was an interesting lecture," Edward murmurs into my ear before he stands to go.

_Good God, you can say that again._

"Morning, Bells," Emmett greets me with a playful smile. I'm embarrassed that I didn't even realize he had been sitting on the other side of Edward the entire time.

We all agree to meet up at the lounge for lunch again, and Edward leaves me with a nod of his head and a grin as he and Jasper head off to the OR. Emmett then accompanies me over to L&D.

"So, tell me, Bella. What's a guy gotta do around here to get some of that meatloaf?"

I have to choke back a laugh, because meatloaf will forever hold a different meaning for me now. "Ratting out your friend probably isn't the best way to go about it," I tease.

"Eh, maybe, but it was just so much more fun. What exactly _is_ the best way to go about it?" he asks and waggles his eyebrows.

I smile and shake my head. Emmett certainly is a one-of-a-kind. I proceed to explain that I've been "feeding" Edward as payment for suturing lessons.

"Suturing lessons? Is that what you kids call it these days?"

He chuckles as I smack his beefy upper arm. "Aw, c'mon Bells. I'm teaching you stuff too. Don't I deserve some as well?" he whines.

I consider it for a moment, and a wicked grin takes over my face as an idea pops into my head. "I'll tell you what. I'll bring in some meatloaf for you tomorrow—_if _you do me a favor in return."

Emmett eyes me curiously. "Okay, I'm game."

"I was wondering if you could give me Edward's pager number. Just in case I ever need it."

Emmett narrows his eyes at me and begins to smirk. "Why do I have a feeling you're up to no good?"

I look back at him with innocent doe-eyes, and I bat my eyelashes. "Why, I have no idea what you mean."

Emmett grin spreads from ear to ear. "You got yourself a deal, little lady."

Working in L&D makes the day go by really quickly. It's interesting and fast-paced with so many things to learn.

Emmett and I go out for lunch with Alice, Jasper and Edward again to some little Tex-Mex place that makes really amazing and really _huge _burritos. They're so big I actually split one with Alice. I finally realize that Edward's restless legs and foot grazes are anything but accidental, and when I try to ignore him he only becomes more insistent. I eventually respond to his little game of footsie with a light kick to his shin, which only seems to egg him on even more. I finally change tactics and bring my foot to brush the inside of his thigh, right above his knee, which actually makes his cheeks flush slightly and shuts down his little game instantly.

_Ha! Match point._

When lunch is over, I try to brush aside the disappointment that I won't see him again until the following day.

That night, I find myself lonelier than expected with Alice on call at the hospital. So I try to keep myself occupied as much as possible. I call my parents and let them know I'm busy, not dead. I don't even consider mentioning Edward when my mom predictably asks if I'm seeing anyone.

Technically, I'm not.

Right?

I call my friend Angela back at home and catch up on the latest Forks gossip.

I consider calling Jacob…and then think better of it.

I read a little fanfiction. It's my secret guilty pleasure that I'd never admit to another living soul. That's another thing that should have a surgeon general's warning,because it's so ridiculously addictive.

I finally turn in for the night while I think again of Edward's lovely fingers and lips. And maybe a few other parts of his anatomy I've yet to meet.

XXX

Thursday can't go by fast enough for me, probably because I'm on call tonight. The day doesn't exactly drag, but L&D is a little quieter than usual for some reason. Edward and Jasper get tied up in the OR so they don't meet us for lunch, and Alice is post-call, which leaves me alone with Emmett for lunch. On the upside, he truly enjoys the large hunk of meatloaf I bring him and devours it as if he hasn't eaten in weeks. He's quite chatty and shares some entertaining patient stories that I could never repeat in polite company.

When the day finally finishes, I practically sprint to the lounge, but Edward isn't there yet. I heat up dinner, excitement bubbling away in my chest as I anticipate his reaction to my favorite dish.

Like Edward, there are a few things I know I do well. And if he liked my lasagna, he's going to absolutely love my eggplant parmesan.

Edward opens the door to the lounge a few minutes later with a delectable smile on his face. "Mmmm…something smells delicious," he says immediately.

I love how he watches me as I put the food on the table, and how his eyes light up as he inspects his dish. I love even more how he lets his eyes roll back in his head when he eats. "This," he says, pointing with his fork to his food, "This is my favorite yet. I can't believe how good it is."

I just sigh and smile. If he only knew how happy that makes me.

The night, like the day in L&D, is unusually quiet. There is a quick case in the ER that turns out, luckily for the mother, to be just a threatened miscarriage, but not much is happening on the floor. But I'm selfishly grateful to have time to sit around and bullshit with Edward. I was beyond happy to have him all to myself.

After a while, we sit together in a comfortable silence as I study and Edward works on his laptop. "Oh, I almost forgot," he says abruptly, standing up and going to his locker. I watch with curiosity as he pulls out a plastic bag and hands it to me.

"What is this?" I ask.

"It's my suturing kit. I'm giving it to you."

I'm completely taken aback. "I can't take this from you," I protest, feeling awkward.

"Of course you can. I don't use it anymore. You've given it the most action it's seen in ages."

I'm so overwhelmed by the gesture that I don't even think before I jump up and hug him. "Thank you, that's just so...thank you," I gush, and then realize I've initiated uninvited full-body contact and suddenly pull away sheepishly. "Sorry," I mutter.

Much to my relief, Edward doesn't look like he minded at all. "I'm not," he replies.

We just stand like that for a moment, and I briefly wonder if he'll kiss me again...

Please, please_, please_ let him kiss me again!

I'm thinking he actually might when he licks his lips, but then…

His fucking pager goes off.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

We get called to L&D for a patient who is thirty-eight weeks gestation with ruptured membranes. She is scheduled for a Cesarean section in one week. She has already had two previous cesarean sections.

I grin and commence the internal happy dance.

We're getting to do a Cesarean section. _This is just too perfect_.

Edward talks to the patient and gets consent. He then tells the nurse to get her prepped for the OR.

When Edward begins to scrub, I stay back behind him and silently watch as he vigorously and methodically runs the scrub sponge over each lovely finger, one by one, eventually moving to his hands, and finally to his forearms.

When he's sufficiently well scrubbed and he is starting to rinse away the soap, I slyly take out my cell phone and dial his pager number.

It takes a moment before the blasted thing starts to sound off.

He immediately freezes and I see his body tense. He looks around and behind him, then straight at me.

Before he can say a word, I step closer and give him the widest, sweetest smile I can muster. He takes in my expression, and his eyes widen.

"Would you like me to get that for you, Dr. Cullen?"

* * *

><p><strong>SM own all of Twilight. I'm just playing with their characters and making meatloaf sound pervy.<strong>

**A/N:** It's payback time, Dr. Cullen. *wink wink*

You wonderful people out there continue to wow and amaze me. Thank you so much for your support of this story! I love hearing from you, and it makes me so stupid-happy that you're reading!

Oh, and much love to the lovely Lemon H00rs! You naughty gals rock my world : )


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to mc101180 and love of escapism for their mad beta skills. NKubie and Prettyflour are the best prereaders a gal could ever ask for and totally kicked my ass into shape this chapter.

As always, all my love to Pennyloafer and Beccagold.

So...Where were we again?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

**EPOV**

Just as I'm finishing scrubbing, my goddamn pager goes off. I groan internally and wish I could ignore it, because the last thing I want to do right now is ask Bella to get it for me. But I am on call, and it could be something important…so I turn around to look for her only to find her standing behind me.

When I see the look on her face, I have a sneaking suspicion that this page is no emergency.

"Would you like me to get that for you, Dr. Cullen?" she asks in a playfully seductive tone.

_Fuck. _

She's definitely up to no good.

And my masochistic side is going to let her, because I can't help myself—I'm dying to see where she's going with this. "If you wouldn't mind," I say, and my voice sounds almost strained as I practically choke the words out.

She comes up behind me, _so close_ I can hear her breathing, and instead of going for my back pocket as expected, she reaches around and gently pats on top of and inside my front shirt pocket, making every muscle in my body tense and shooting a thrill down my spine.

"No, it's not in your front pocket…" She trails off, and then her hand drifts down my side, slowly, torturously. "Some doctors clip their pagers on the front of their scrubs. I guess I'll have to check there."

I should stop this. I really, really need to stop this. But do I? _Fuck no_. I'm completely paralyzed and way too curious to find out how far she'll take it.

I suck in a breath as she slides her fingers along the left side of my waistband. I may have actually hissed.

She removes her hand, only to repeat the same process on my right side, making sure she gives it an equally thorough work-over.

_I am so fucked_. _And I seem to have a growing problem_.

The more primitive side of my brain is chanting, "_A little more to the left. Please, God, just a little more to the left…"_

"No, not there, either." She pulls her hand away, and I'm half relieved, half disappointed, and wholly ashamed of myself for letting her do this to me.

"Oh wait—you keep it in your back pocket. How could I forget? Silly me."

She then reaches into my back pocket, making no effort to pull the fabric away from my body the way she usually does, slowly and deliberately grazing my ass in the process. If that weren't enough, she makes sure to give me a light squeeze, making me jump, before she finally brings it out.

_Oh, so this is how she wants to play?_

I finally turn around to look at her, and she has the smuggest grin on her face as she holds my pager up like it's some fucking prize. She looks entirely too pleased with herself.

I give her a pointed look, doing my best to keep a straight face. "Do I even need to ask if I have to answer that?"

She bites her lip. The expression on her face gives everything away, and I know for certain now that this page was neither emergency nor coincidence.

I give her a firm glare and shake my head slowly. _Oh, you are so in for it, Bella._

Time to let her sweat for a bit. "If you want to get in on this case, I suggest you scrub now," I say flatly and head into the OR, trying to ignore the fact that I'm somehow going to have to fully focus on a procedure with the object of my erection's desire standing across from me the entire time.

**BPOV**

Shit.

Shit, shit, _shit!_

Edward does not speak to me for the entire case. He lets me do everything he usually does, but he's uncharacteristically quiet and his eyes are unreadable and dark. I decide to take a few steps back under the radar, and I'm back to avoiding eye contact with him even though at some points I can feel his stare.

He talks to the patient. He talks to the nurse. He talks to the anesthesiologist. But he does not say a word to me.

Fuck! Too far, Bella. You pushed him too far!

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

Once we wrap up the case, I follow Edward silently back to the lounge, trying to keep up with his long strides.

When we arrive in the lounge, he finally speaks to me. "I'd like to have a word with you. _Alone_," he says quietly and stalks off to _my_ call room.

Oh, good God—my heart is racing, and I'm so nervous. Is he really angry with me? What's he doing in my call room? I can't stop berating myself. My mouth is dry and my feet feel like I'm wearing cement shoes, but I somehow make it to the door.

I knock timidly before I enter, and he's standing right at the entryway of the small room. I gently latch the door behind me, and my heart beats wildly as I take in the intense way he's looking at me. I search his eyes, which are typically such a light, clear green but look so dark, and something just clicks as I realize that he doesn't look angry.

Oh, I've seen that look before. _He's looking at me the way he usually looks at my food._

The realization literally takes my breath away, and in one swift movement, he closes the space between us as he roughly takes my face between his large hands and crushes his lips against mine.

_This_ was definitely not one of the chaste pecks I was used to. This kiss was hungry and demanding and filled with pure, unadulterated _oh-my-God _that I can feel all the way down to my lady parts. I clutch him to me, shamelessly trying to get every part of him as close as physically possible, as he utterly intoxicates me with his taste, his scent, his…._everything. _

Edward Cullen is, without a shadow of doubt, an illicit, illegal substance.

Edward commandeers my mouth like a man possessed. Tongues taste and tangle with urgency and need. He pushes me flush against the back of the door, his impossibly hard body pinning me, allowing me to feel every luscious inch of his form molding insistently to mine.

And speaking of hard—what I can feel pressed up against my lower abdomen is definitely _not_ his pager.

I think I can safely—and quite happily—say that Edward has officially disproven my theory about the inverse relationship between doctor's egos and penis size. Enough said.

My body is completely under his spell, and it yields to him willingly and greedily. His hands travel from my face to my neck, and then they're everywhere. It's like Mardi Gras for the ovaries and girlie bits who are in their all-out glory at the prospect of some on-call room action. I'm getting practically lightheaded with lust as I feel his magical hands drift down my sides, grazing my hips and then caressing my backside…_holy shit_…

I'm wondering how my scrubs haven't melted off of my body by now, but suddenly the magical hands stop moving—and give my ass a double-fisted, blatant _squeeze._

My body tenses and my eyes pop open, and while those hands are still firmly planted on my ass, Edward pulls back enough to look at me with a downright evil grin plastered on his face.

_Why that little…_

Looking me square in the eye, he gives me another squeeze—a bit harder this time—and then releases me as he pulls back a few inches.

I know I'm staring at him, panting, wide-eyed and perhaps even a bit disoriented as I lean against the door with wobbly legs. I'm a mess of mass confusion and I can't even begin to think of forming a coherent sentence.

Edward licks his marvelously swollen lips, and his smile starts to distort and twitch until he breaks out into a full-on snicker.

I bite my lip, and can't help myself as a giggle escapes. "So, does this mean you're not angry with me?" I ask.

He shakes his head and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Hell no." He laughs, and I notice he's breathing as heavily as I am. "I just thought that one good grope deserves another."

_No, he didn't!_

I gasp, my mouth gaping open. I smack him lightly across his firm chest…_oh yes, he definitely works out_. "This was payback?"

He pulls away completely. "Well, I thought it was only fair to leave you in the same condition you left _me_ in," he replies with an impish, self-satisfied grin. "And on that note, I bid you a good night."

And with that, he moves me away from the door. He gives me a light kiss goodbye on the forehead and just walks right out.

_Oh, that infuriating, impetuous man! _As if I could actually just go to sleep after that!

I toss and turn in scratchy hospital sheets and mull over the interesting turn of events of the evening. _Christ on a cruller, that man has a lethal set of lips!_ If he can do this to me just from kissing—good God, I don't even want to go there right now. I'm already a ridiculous, horny ball of sexual frustration. It then occurs to me that Edward has put himself in the same position, and that gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction.

**XXX**

_What the fuck is that?_

A strange noise wakes me suddenly, and I am confused as to what it is and where it's coming from. I finally look at the small Formica nightstand and see my wretched pager dancing across it as it chirps and vibrates.

I look at my cell phone and see that it's a little after three in the morning. Bleary-eyed, I throw myself together quickly, fixing my hair and brushing my teeth before I step out into the lounge. I'm not surprised to find Edward waiting for me and ready to go.

"I hate to wake you, but we have a delivery. And this one will be quite interesting."

This piques my curiosity. "Oh really? Why is that?"

He gives me a boyish grin and raises his eyebrows. "Because you're delivering."

I freeze dead in my tracks as a surge of panic swells in my chest. Edward stops and looks at me. "Don't worry, Bella. You're ready. I'll be right there."

"But I'm _not_ ready!" I shriek. Is this man on crack? What if something goes wrong? What if I hurt the baby? What if I _drop_ it? I suddenly feel sick to my stomach, and I look pleadingly at Edward, silently begging him not to make me do this.

He just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. "You _are_ ready. Just trust me."

I think I'm going to vomit. I am either going to pass out or puke.

"Hello, Mrs. Evans," Edward greets the pretty, dark-haired woman as we enter the delivery room.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen," she says cheerfully with a flirtatious undertone. She is calm and relaxed, and glances at me. "And who is this? Are you cheating on me?" Mr. Evans looks up from his iPhone and gives us a quick nod.

Edward chuckles. "This is Bella Swan, one of our physician assistant students. She'll be assisting your delivery."

No, no, no, I won't! Why is he still saying that? I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. Right here, right now.

"Nice to meet you, Bella," she replies warmly. "Now let's get this show on the road. I'm more than ready to evict this kid!"

"This is Mrs. Evan's fourth pregnancy in the past five years," Edward explains as he gets ready, and he hands me a paper gown and gloves.

Good God, I couldn't even imagine! She takes note of the expression on my face and chuckles. "Just can't keep my husband away from me," she says with an exasperated sigh. "Horny little bastard." She laughs again. Said horny husband just chuckles quietly in the background. How is she so calm and collected? Epidurals must be downright miraculous.

Surreal. This is just downright surreal.

"She's a total pro," Edward assures me. "All you're going to have to do is stand there and catch."

My fight-or-flight reflex is in full force, and the intense urge to flee the scene is alarming.

"Don't worry," Edward murmurs soothingly, for only my ears to hear. "I'll be right here the whole time."

And before I know it, she is ten centimeters dilated, huffing and puffing, and I'm huffing and puffing and praying along with her. Edward calmly coaches me through the delivery, guiding my trembling, unsteady hands with his own confident and secure ones as he talks me through, step-by-step.

It's the most terrifying and exhilarating experience of my entire life.

Edward wasn't kidding when he said this baby would practically deliver itself. It all happens so fast I can barely process the fact that there is now a tiny and extremely slippery baby boy in my hands. Holy fuck-on-a-rope, he must be covered in raw egg white or something, because it's like trying to keep hold of an uncooked turkey slathered in olive oil! _Please, please, please don't let me drop him!_

But Edward's hands are right there with me. He was with me the whole time.

It isn't until we hand the little bugger over to the nurse and I hear him cry that I actually take a deep breath and let it all sink in.

_Holy shit. I just delivered a baby!_

As I watch the nurse present the miniature human to the proud parents, this incredible, intense feeling of pure euphoria washes over me. It's like surviving a terrifying rollercoaster ride and immediately wanting to get right back on. I know with total certainty that this is one of those moments I'll remember for the rest of my life.

The lump of emotion in my throat is in full force as my heart feels like it swells an extra size. My eyes search out Edward's, and when they meet, I give him my brightest smile, trying to convey my overwhelming gratitude and all these incredible, endorphin-ridden feelings swirling inside me. He smiles back proudly, and his face wordlessly tells me he knows exactly what I'm experiencing.

So now, I get it. I really, really get it…and I can't wait to do it again.

**XXX**

By the time we complete the delivery and finish charting, it's almost five o'clock and there's only an hour left before rounds.

Edward glances at his watch and then at me. He looks so tired, and I want to touch the faint purplish coloring under his eyes. "Would you like to come with me to Starbucks? They open in a few minutes, and I definitely need some coffee," he says with a sigh as he ruffles his hands through his sex-hair.

Oh my, the sex hair. It's wild and wonderful, and I just want to sink my fists into it. And now he's rocking the morning scruffy jaw. It's just not fair. No mere mortal should be allowed to possess that much sex appeal. Especially at this unholy hour.

He's still looking at me, and for the life of me, I can't remember why. Wait, did he ask me something? Goddamn it! Why does this keep happening to me? I'm beginning to wonder if I have adult ADHD. I'll have to look it up when I get home.

His lips curl into that all-knowing, lopsided grin, and he shakes his head slowly. "Come on, Swan. I'll treat you to a chai latte."

Edward and I settle into a small table toward the back of the shop with our drinks. I sink into my chair with a deep sigh. I'm coming down from my post-delivery high and suddenly the lack of sleep is taking its toll. "What a night."

"Yes, you can definitely say that again." Edward's signature cocky smirk makes its appearance, and somehow I think he's referring to more than the delivery.

I roll my eyes as I feel the familiar flush of heat in my face and that weird twinge in my gut. "You know what I meant," I retort playfully.

He just chuckles softly and takes a sip of his coffee.

"In all seriousness, though, I'm calling a truce. You're absolutely killing me," he says softly. "We really have to take things down a notch."

I nod, swallowing my disappointment. "Does that mean no more kissing?" I murmur. _Dear God, I hope not_. I'd rather give up chocolate for three weeks.

He leans forward and sighs. "That means no more kissing that leaves me with blue balls."

I fight back a smirk. "That was not my fault. I, for one, can behave myself," I insist quietly.

The left corner of his lip curls upward. "I've yet to see that."

I scowl at him as I take sip of my chai latte and lick the foam off my lips. Hot damn, that's really good. It's downright shimmy-worthy.

Edward watches me and shakes his head. "Killing me," he mutters. Did I miss something? Was it the shimmy? Damnit, I'm such a tard.

He takes in my confused state and runs a hand through his hair again. "Look, Bella. Can we just keep it G-rated? For now?"

I chew on my lip while I think it over. That would definitely include kissing, but… "Can we compromise to PG-13?" I ask hopefully. That could surely include some base rounding, right? I could live with that.

He glares at me and takes a large swig from his coffee. "Come on, let's head back. You don't want to be late for rounds," he says, avoiding the question all together. _Damn._

Lovely shades of pink streak the sky as the sun begins to rise while we walk back to the hospital. I notice he makes no mention of going to the diner after rounds. "So, what are your plans for today?" Gee, real subtle, Swan.

"Sleep is on the top of the list," he replies_. Not the answer I was looking for._ His eyes appraise my face. "You need to do the same."

I'm secretly pouting, because as I do the math in my head, I realize I won't see Edward much at all for the next week. The only day I'll really spend with him is Wednesday when we're on call together. That seems like forever to wait for my next Edward fix.

I want to smack myself. When did I become so pathetic?

He escorts me to 3 North where I have rounds, both of us walking in silence. When we hit the landing of the second flight of stairs, he unexpectedly takes my hand and places a light kiss on the inside of my wrist.

_Swooning._

He smiles down at me, sending warmth throughout my body that makes my head spin and my knees weak before releasing my hand and continuing up the stairs. I'm totally impressed with myself for somehow making it the rest of the way without tripping over my own feet after that.

I don't want him to leave. I want to completely blow off rounds and find a secluded utility closet to pull him into. But Dr. Responsible drops me off with a brief and anticlimactic "see you later," and the only action I get is watching his back retreat down the hall. I mentally curse his damn long lab coat for obstructing my view.

Holy hell, even the man's walk exudes confidence and sex.

I stumble through my patient presentations and rounds on autopilot. The rollercoaster ride I've been riding in the past twenty-four hours has completely knocked me out, and I'm literally exhausted. I wish I could just click my heels together, chant "there's no place like home," and miraculously teleport into my bed.

I finally make it to the lounge to get my things, signaling the end to the longest shift ever. The last thing I expect when I open the door is to find Dr. Fuck-Me-Please sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table and reading a medical journal. He looks up when he hears the door open.

"Took you long enough," he says with that damn heart-stopping grin of his.

He was waiting? For me? _How inappropriate would it be for me to jump into his lap?_

I know I'm practically beaming as he stands up and walks over to me, waiting as I sling my backpack over my shoulder with the goofiest smile on my face.

Edward escorts me all the way to the parking garage. "Well, this is me," I say reluctantly once I reach my car, wishing I could delay the inevitable goodbye. Somehow I also feel compelled to thank him for allowing me to do the delivery. I know it's his job, but it was such a remarkable experience, and it meant so much to me to share it with him.

But I have no idea how to say that without sounding like a totally cheesy sap, so I try to keep it simple. "Thank you, Edward...you know, for the delivery and all. Just…thanks."

As if he understands exactly what I'm thinking, he gently pulls me into his arms. My breath catches as he strokes my cheek with his fingertips, dragging them tenderly to my chin and lifting me to meet his lips.

_Oh good God_, those lips. They feel even better than they look.

This kiss isn't the "throw-me-up-against-a-wall-and-fuck-my-brains-out" kind in any way; it's soft and sweet and downright swoony in a G-rated sort of way. He caresses my neck and my back while his lips work their voodoo, making my entire body melt into his like butter on a hot toasted bagel. He releases me all too soon and chuckles softly as I feebly try to pull him back for an encore.

"You're welcome. Bella," he says and sweeps a loose wisp of hair away from my face. "I know how amazing a first delivery is, and that's why I wanted to be there for yours."

_He did? _

_Fuck…_the big, stupid lump in my throat is back as I'm suddenly hit with a wrecking ball of emotion. I swallow thickly as I stare into his beautiful, intense eyes, completely at a loss for words. I throw my arms back around his neck and squeeze him tightly, and I feel him nuzzle his face into my hair.

"You totally make dark chocolate status in my book, Dr. Cullen," I mumble into his shoulder before finally letting him go.

Edward's answering grin makes my heart flip-flop. "Coming from you, I take that as the ultimate compliment." He drops a light kiss on my forehead. "I'll see you next week. Be careful driving, and get some rest today, okay?"

I just nod wordlessly, still leaning on my car for support as I watch him walk away.

Three more weeks.

How the fuck am I going to survive it?

* * *

><p><strong>SM owns all of Twilight, and her characters do not deliver<em> human<em> babies.**

A/N:

There you have it...Bella's first delivery _and _their first real (fully conscious) kiss. I'm a wee bit nervous and dying to hear your thoughts!

Three more weeks...not gonna be dragged out, I promise. I'm more anxious to get these two together than anyone.

You lovely people in fanficland continue to amaze me, and I just can't thank you enough for being so wonderful. I wish I could be better about replying to reviews, because each and every one make me want to hug you : ) I promise I will respond to all questions and as many others as I can.

Oh, and love to the crazy Lemon H00rs and the awesome gals on the thread! You guys crack my ass up and keep me motivated!

xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

Hey there! This chapter is brought to you by the letter** M**. And I'm not just referring to Sesame Street.

Thanks as always to my betas mcc101180 and Love of Escapism, and to Prettyflour and NKubie for being the bestest prereaders ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

I have a theory that you can judge how good a guy will be in bed by how well he kisses. Sort of like you can tell how good a restaurant is by the quality of their bread basket. If the bread is stale and dry, chances are the meal isn't going to be that much better. I honestly believe the same applies to men, and if they kiss like a lizard trying to tongue-fuck you, the main event is likely to be comparable. So why even bother?

Yes, I've kissed quite a few frogs—and lizards—in my day. I've only bothered having sex with three, and thus far they have supported my theory. Let's just say that none of them melted my butter.

Edward Cullen, on the other hand, practically _scorched_ my butter in every aspect. Every look, every touch…he caused chain reactions in my body that I didn't even know were physically possible. And now, after that spectacular, dazzling kiss in the call room, I was dying to test my theory even further.

He was so incredibly _sensual. Passionate. Consuming. Intense._

Good God, I got aroused just thinking about it, which seemed to happen all too often lately. Sadly, the brain has defected and taken sides with the evil ovaries. I've even taken it to the next level and fantasized about what could have happened in that call room that night…my favorite scenario resulting in ripped panties and a magnificent, hard fuck up against the door.

Not that I'd experienced anything like that in real life—but as I've mentioned, I've read a lot of fanfiction. That stuff gives a girl a lot of naughty ideas…and hopes that there really _is_ sex like that out there.

**XXX**

This weekend is dragging miserably.

Dragging like rush hour traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

Like waiting for your turn at the DMV.

Or maybe like big balls on a short-legged cat.

Ah, yes. Did I ever mention that I totally amuse myself?

Saturday, Alice set up a "girls' night in," and we sat around drinking frozen margaritas and watching a John Hughes movie marathon. It was nice, since between our opposing call schedules and her constantly staying over at Jasper's apartment, we never saw each other anymore. Although I could have done without the tipsy lecture she gave me about how chronic sex depravation can cause brain damage.

Even though I'm beginning to wonder if she's right.

Sunday, Alice is out with Jasper again. I keep myself busy cooking, catching up on phone calls, reading—I even decide to clean out my closet in an effort to keep Dr. Totally-Fuckable off my mind. Not that any of it works, of course.

I'm in the middle of making a beer-based beef stew later in the evening when I hear my cell phone alert a message.

**Well hello there. What are you up to today?**

I'm momentarily confused, wondering if it was a wrong number since I don't recognize it. I'm about to ignore it, but the New York City area code makes me think twice.

_Could it be? _I gnaw at my lip, my heart suddenly pounding irrationally as I debate what to say.

_**Cooking. What about you?**_

I pace the floor nervously with my phone in hand. Please, please, _please,_ let it be him. I don't have to wait long for a response.

**What are you making?**

Damnit! That didn't help at all. I wrack my brain for a way to "out" my mysterious messenger.

_**I'm making your favorite.**_

**Really? Which one?**

Though my frustration is growing, my suspicion and hopes rise. I decide to take the plunge. I swallow a snicker as I type my reply.

_**Meatloaf. I got your mom's recipe.**_

I hold my breath as I wait for a response.

**You know, it's not nice to tease. You had my hopes up for eggplant parm.**

I let out a girlie squeal and happy shimmy, grinning like an idiot. It is him! _It's him it's him it's him!_

_**You think you deserve?**_

**Oh, I think I definitely deserve ; )**

Cocky bastard. Another text comes in as I'm about to reply. Damn he types fast.

**Very impressive way to give me your number, btw. A page and a grope? You get extra points for that.**

I am pretty impressed with myself that I thought to leave my cell number for callback when I paged him. I give myself a pat on the back.

_**Points? What does that get me?**_

**What did you have in mind? It's not like I have a hierarchy or anything.**

_**That's a loaded question. You really want an answer?**_

There's no instant reply. I can just picture his jaw twitching, and I realize I'm gnawing on my damn lip again. _C'mon, Edward, lighten up! Play with me._

Still waiting…Fuck, was that too forward? He's the one who brought up the grope! It seems like a lifetime-and-a-half before he finally replies.

**No. Maybe. Depends.**

_**Depends on what?**_

**I'm working. I don't like to work under "uncomfortable" conditions**_**, **_**ok?**

I snort. _Now that's a visual…_

_***adjusting my halo* Keeping it PG-13 ; )**_

**G**

_**You're no fun : (**_

**Actually, I'm a lot of fun. And the halo looks good on you.**

_I'll bet you're a lot of fun, Edward. I have a slew of fantasies that desperately hope so._ I giggle while I type my reply.

_**Like it? It matches my polka-dot boy shorts**_** ; ) **

Why should I be the only one stuck with the visuals?

**Grrrrr….working, Bella!**

Oooooh—I got a growl out of that one.

_**Obviously not working very hard if you have time to harass me.**_

**Harass you? Oh, I'll harass you alright…**

_***licking lips* Oh, I wish you would.**_

**Evil. You are downright evil, woman. But you sure give good text.**

My lips twitch. I can't stop smiling. Then I realize my stew is going to burn, and I run to the stove and turn down the heat. That makes me think twice before I answer. Keep it tame, but not too tame.

_**I'm enjoying giving it. And I think you enjoy evil.**_

He doesn't respond right away, and I start to worry again. Gah! This man is so frustrating!

A few minutes pass before I finally get my reply.

**Gotta go. TTYL.**

I sigh with disappointment as I text a goodbye and turn my attention back to making dinner.

I don't hear from him for the rest of the night, and I wonder how busy he is and hope he'll be able to get some sleep tonight. I have to be up early in the morning, so I settle into bed and do a little reading to wind down. But before I do, I decide to text Edward a "goodnight."

As I'm nestling under the covers, trying to get comfortable, my cell alerts a message. I grab it anxiously and instantly smile when I see that Edward texted back.

**Have a good night, Bella. I'll be thinking of you.**

I'm instant goo. _Good God,_ what this man does to me.

_**Me too.**_

As if I even have a choice in the matter.

**XXX**

I absolutely hate the way time seems to shuffle its feet when I'm looking forward to something. Monday and Tuesday seem to move even slower than the weekend did, and I'm extremely thankful that L&D is busy.

Emmett lets me do a few uncomplicated deliveries now that I've "popped my cherry with Edward," as he so eloquently puts it. It's such a nerve-wracking experience, and when I ask Emmett how he manages not to drop the slippery suckers, he just chuckles and says, "Don't worry, Bella. They have built-in bungee cords." Ha, ha. Very reassuring.

Tuesday night, I get a text from Edward.

**Bring a comfortable change of clothes with you tomorrow.**

That fires up my curiosity.

_**Sure. Why?**_

**You'll see.**

_**What are you up to?**_

No reply.

_**Aw, come on! You can't just leave me hanging like that!**_

**Yes, I can.**

Oh, that man! What the hell is he up to? Downright exasperating.

By the time Wednesday finally surfaces, I'm practically bouncing with excitement to see him at Grand Rounds. But as I sit and wait without so much as a sighting of him, my hopes sink. When someone takes the empty seat next to me and it's not him, I have to force myself not to shoot the death glare at the poor girl. Once the lights start to dim, I'm virtually crestfallen.

That is, until I see what the topic for the lecture is; it's a case presentation about fallopian tube cysts. And then Edward walks up to the lectern wearing a suit and tie under his lab coat, looking like Dr. G-Fucking-Q, living up to his Surgeon General's warning.

_Oh. Mah. Gawd._

I want to yank on that tie.

"A thirty-one-year-old female presents to the emergency department with acute left lower quadrant pain…" Edward begins to present the case in that silky, confident voice of his, and I'm completely mesmerized. He looks positively edible, and I'm apparently back in pathetic Justin Bieber fangirl mode. I can't even be bothered to extract my gaze from him even when Alice jabs me in the side—I just jab her back a little bit harder and try to keep the saliva in my mouth as he commands my undivided attention.

Alice takes the first available opportunity to tease me once the lecture finishes. "Gee, Bella, that must be the first Grand Rounds I've seen you actually pay attention to."

I just grin. "For your information, I was on call for that case. It was pretty cool."

Jasper immediately chimes in. "Holy shit, you were in on that surgery? Fuck, that must have been awesome."

I nod with a swelling sense of pride for Edward. "Yeah, it really was."

**XXX**

I do my best to focus on the rest of the day and try to ignore the continuous assault of visions of Dr. Fuck-Me.

_Edward in that suit and tie. _

_Edward helping me through my first delivery._

_Edward licking his lips while he eats my…dinners._

_Edward pressing me up against the call room door and…_

_Fuck_…I'm completely hopeless.

The brief interaction with him during lunch doesn't help, either. He and Jasper meet up with Emmett, Alice, and me at the pizza place. I don't really get to say much to Edward at all, but he sits across from me again, and his "accidental" foot brushes and covert glances make me even more anxious for call tonight.

After I finish charting our final patient for the day, I ask Emmett if it's okay if I leave.

"You're on call tonight, aren't you?" he asks with a smirk.

I resist an eye-roll. _So predictable_. "Why, yes I am, Emmett," I answer with a returning smile. "And why do you ask?" I tease.

"Well…" he begins, pretending to look around the room. "I was just wondering if you're still bringing dinners for Cullen."

"And if I was?" I know exactly what he wants; I'm just going to make him work for it.

"Really? What did you make this time?"

"Beef stew," I answer casually. "Do you think he'll like it?"

Emmett's eyes practically glaze over. Doesn't Rosalie cook for this poor boy? "Oh, I'm sure he will," he mutters.

_Wait for it..._

_Wait for it…_

"Aw, c'mon, Bells," he practically whines. "Can I just have a little taste?" he pleads.

"Oh puleeze, Emmett, did you really think I'd forget about you?"

I stifle a chuckle as the evident relief washes over his face. He accompanies me down to the lounge, and Edward is already there on his laptop. He looks at the two of us quizzically, and Emmett greets him with a smug grin. Edward watches me as I go to the fridge and pull out three containers, and I hand one to Emmett.

"Here, I brought you a whole container you can _bring home_," I say, with a quirk of my brow.

Emmett's eyes light up. "Dude! Thanks, Bells! You're the best!" His eyes dart between Edward and me. "So, I guess I'll see you kids later, then. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

_Ha. As if anything like that would actually happen._

"You know he's going to scarf down that container the second he gets into his car, right?" Edward says as we watch Emmett leave.

I chuckle softly. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least. As long as he doesn't choke on it while he's driving, he can do whatever he wants with it."

The beef stew seems to be a success, seeing how Edward is scraping his dish clean. "Damn, woman—how did you get to be such a good cook? Did you learn from your mom?"

I almost choke on a piece of carrot. "Hell, no!" I laugh. "But I guess you could say that I learned to cook _because of_ her." I explain that Renee never really liked cooking, and I have a theory that she'd purposely make things so disgusting that Charlie just stopped wanting her to. After getting sick of living on things like frozen dinners, canned ravioli and boxed macaroni and cheese, I started to teach myself with the help of the Food Network. The rest is history.

The night isn't terribly busy; we have only one delivery and a patient in preterm labor at twenty-two weeks that we have to monitor. I must confess that I'm quite the happy clam to get a little bit of down time to talk.

While the floor is quiet, Edward and I sit in the lounge and chat about everything and nothing at all. I pester him a bit to explain the change of clothes, but he won't budge. His mood is almost buoyant, and I love seeing him this way. But my eyes are starting to feel dry and fatigue is creeping up on me, and when a yawn finally escapes, Edward glances at his watch.

"Shit, Bella. It's almost midnight. You should turn in."

My first instinct is to protest, but I know I'm exhausted. And who knows if we'll get called in the middle of the night again.

I sigh with a touch of resignation, and then I realize I'm staring wistfully at his lips. He notices, too, because they curl into that shmexy grin that makes me so weak.

"Come here," he murmurs softly as he stands up and extends a hand out to me. I rise to meet him, and we each take a step to close the space separating us before he pulls me into his arms. I burrow my cheek into his chest, marveling at the warmth that surges through me with his embrace. I peer up at him, and I reach up onto my tiptoes and place a soft, sweet kiss on those tasty lips. I feel him smile and that makes me smile, too.

He pulls back to look at me. "I've been dying for that all night."

That comment makes me throw my arms around his neck and pull his lips back to mine, and I'm not so sweet this time. I've been dying to devour this man all _week_, and I'm seizing the opportunity while I have it.

Edward's mouth and body answers mine with equal fervor, grasping my face and angling it to gain better access. It's delicious and makes me feel all fluttery—but as always, he doesn't allow anything to escalate, and he ends the kiss way too soon for my liking.

Fuck! I simultaneously love and hate the way he makes me feel. Either he has inhuman self-control, or maybe he's just not that into me.

Isn't that a movie? Maybe I should rent it. For research purposes, of course.

Edward studies my face, and his brow creases. His expression is almost apologetic, and he looks like he wants to say something…

Now I feel like a petulant child. Well, _I am_, but I don't want Edward to know that. I know he has his reasons for constantly cutting me off, and the last thing I want right now is to get into some stupid discussion about waiting and responsibilities and blah, blah, blah. I'm tired, and the ovaries aren't interested.

_Keep it light, right?_

So I smile sweetly and give him a quick peck on the lips. "Goodnight, Dr. Cullen," I say, because I think he kinda likes when I call him that. And I sashay back to my call room with my head held high.

"Bella?" he calls out just as I get to the door, so I glance back over my shoulder. "Wait here when you finish rounds tomorrow."

I cock my head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. "Does this have anything to do with comfortable clothing?"

He smirks and shakes his head. "You'll see," he answers conspiratorially. "Goodnight, Bella. Sweet dreams."

**XXX**

I actually wake up fifteen minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off. I'm thrilled that I didn't get a single call through the night; it seems that the pager gods decided to give me a break. I feel well-rested and nervously excited to see what Edward has planned.

I am a woman on a mission. I don't have many patients to see this morning, so I breeze through my rounds and finish earlier than usual.

"Sleep well?" Edward asks me when he finds me in the lounge, comfortably dressed as instructed. There's something about the way he appraises me that gives me goose bumps.

I chew my lip and nod. "You?"

He grins, and I notice that he's cleanly shaven and his skin looks so smooth. I want to touch it. Or lick it. _Somebody just slap me, please._

"Did you have any plans today?" he asks cautiously.

_Well, I've been hoping._ "No, do you?"

A self-satisfied smirk plays across his lips, and my girlie bits respond instantly. "Maybe I do," he teases me. "Are you absolutely starving right now, or can you wait a bit?"

"I can wait. What do you have in mind?"

"A diner," he answers vaguely.

I quirk my eyebrow while I put on my trench coat. "_A_ diner? As in a different diner?"

He just keeps grinning, obviously pleased with himself about something. "Just give me a minute to get changed. You'll find out soon enough."

**XXX**

Edward won't even give me a hint where we're going, but we have to take the subway to get there. I've only been to the city twice with Alice, and that was only to go shopping and bar hopping. I find the subways completely intimidating. They are crowded, smell a little funny, and there always seem to be weird people on them. But as cheesy as it sounds, Edward makes me feel safe and secure.

"This is our stop," he says once we hit 57th street. He keeps me close as he guides me through the crowded station up to the living, breathing city above ground.

A short distance from the subway, Edward stops in front of a brightly colored restaurant all decked out with old-school neon signs.

"The Brooklyn Diner? In Manhattan?" I ask as he takes me inside. The interior is a bit more stylish and upscale than most typical diners.

"My parents took me here the first time we ever came to New York, when I was about thirteen years old. My dad was attending a medical conference somewhere in the city, and my mom and I came along for the trip_._"

We're seated in a brown leather upholstered booth. A friendly waiter with a thick New York accent hands us two huge menus, and I flip straight to the pancake section.

_Score!_ They do have blueberry pancakes! But wait—there are a few other things that catch my eye as well…

I watch huge plates of food go by, and I get a luscious waft of cinnamon and maple syrup. Holy carboload, the portions are huge!

"You look like you're trying to solve the national debt crisis, Bella. Didn't you find your blueberry pancakes?" Edward jibes me, his green eyes bright with mirth.

"Since you asked, I'm having decision issues," I explain. "See, I could easily go with the blueberry pancakes, but then I could take a chance on 'Tony Bennett's cinnamon raisin and pecan French toast.' What's a girl to do? Go tried and true, or roll the dice on unchartered territory that I could either love or hate?"

Edward listens intently and furrows his brow as if he's pondering something extremely profound. "Well, I know what I would do in that situation, but the decision is yours."

"I'm asking your opinion."

"Like I said, it's your choice. It's not my place to influence your decision with what I would do in the same situation."

What the fuck? Aren't we just discussing breakfast selections?

I narrow my eyes at him, and he mirrors my expression. _Punk._

I sigh and give in. "Fine. Some help you are," I huff.

Our waiter comes back before I've fully decided. I look to Edward, motioning for him to order first.

He gets the vegetarian omelet. Shocker.

The waiter looks at me, and Edward watches me expectantly. I glare at him, and then order under pressure.

I get the French toast. I figure I wouldn't want to pine away in that nursing home wondering "what could have been."

My jaw goes a bit slack when the food arrives. Edward's omelet is ginormous. It's so overstuffed it looks like it could give birth to thousands of baby veggies at any moment.

My French toast? It's a gastronomic work of art. Thick raisin challah bread covered with fresh strawberries and what looks like homemade whipped cream on top. I wonder if you could get a contact high from just the aroma. It's a whirlwind of cinnamon and vanilla and _nom nom nom._

I take a bite and let my eyes close with pleasure. This is more than shimmy worthy. This is Snoopy-dance worthy.

_Which I will not do_. This is a public place, and I do want Edward to hopefully take me out again.

"You okay over there?" I glance up and find Edward watching me with amused fascination.

I grin sheepishly. "It's really good."

He smirks at me. "I take it you made the right choice?"

I lick my lips and nod with a big grin. His smile morphs into something warm and wonderful that makes my insides tingle.

He then cuts off a piece of his omelet and places it on the edge of my plate, without me even asking. I do the same with a piece of my toast, making sure I include all the good stuff.

"So how come you didn't try something different?" I ask.

He shrugs. "When I find something I really like, I stick with it."

_My oh my, I certainly hope so._

**XXX**

I am on a crazy sugar high by the time we finish breakfast. Well, I use the term "finish" loosely, since the portions were enough to feed two or more people. We walk a short distance, a few blocks I guess—or is it streets? What's the difference between a street and a block anyway? This city grid math thing always confuses me.

Edward still refuses to tell me anything about where we're going, and I keep harassing him.

A museum? A bar? Art gallery? Sightseeing? I pester him with a battery of questions, but he's tight-lipped and smug, and he keeps saying, "You'll see."

We stop in front of a huge theater with a large sign that reads "Ziegfeld" in elegant script. The sign underneath displays the latest _Harry Potter_ movie.

"We're seeing a movie? Isn't this playing everywhere?" I ask stupidly.

Edward grins and raises his eyebrows. "Yes, it is. But this isn't just _any_ movie theater." With that, he opens the door, and with a hand on my lower back, guides me inside.

Edward wasn't kidding. This sure as hell wasn't your average garden-variety multiplex. This was a step back into another era; rich red velvet walls and seats, gold gilded trim and glistening chandeliers make the whole atmosphere feel incredibly decadent and elegant. It's beautiful and so vintage classy that I actually feel underdressed. We are early for the show, so we take a leisurely tour around before sitting down.

There seems to be an endless sea of ruby red seating, and Edward leads me to a set of stairs that takes us to the balcony seating. Yes, balcony seating. I didn't even know movie theaters still had those. But we take seats in a secluded area toward the back.

The lights dim to darkness signaling the start of the movie. I lean back in my seat, and Edward "pretends" to stretch with a sly grin and drapes his arm around me.

Cheeky bugger.

Of course I'm delighted beyond words, and I nestle into his side, humming with contentment.

I try to pay attention to the movie. I really, really do. But Edward's close proximity is doing crazy things to me, and I'm finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything but him. Poor Harry Potter never stood a chance, especially when Edward starts combing his fingers through my ponytail, making my heart rate accelerate.

When I feel him take hold of my hairband and gently pull it free, causing my hair to fall loose across my back and shoulders, I feel a gush of air escape my lungs. He then starts to run his hands through the strands, and I feel like I'm slowly unraveling.

Long fingers tenderly stroke my hair and scalp, moving to the back of my neck. I lean into his touch and chance a sideways glimpse at him, and his beautiful eyes bore into mine.

"I hope you don't mind, but I love your hair. I wish you'd always wear it down," he murmurs into my ear, and places a kiss underneath it. I sigh and nuzzle into him as his nose skims along my cheek, his breath tickling my skin and sending goose bumps down my neck and spine.

_I think I might have just squeaked. _

Soft open lips gently glide across my jaw, working their way to mine and just brushing back and forth across my hypersensitive mouth. The sensation is so charged and intense that I finally just snap and weave a hand through his hair and take his bottom lip between mine.

Oh yeah, it's _on. _

Edward's kisses are languid and sensuous, as if he's learning my mouth and wants to take his time doing it. Hands massage my scalp and caress my face and neck while he works his magic on me.

Oh good God, can this man kiss. Nothing can compare to the way his mouth makes me feel as it moves expertly over mine. It's as if there's no movie, no theater. No hospital, no student/preceptor relationship. There's just Edward and me and this delicious electricity passing between us.

Fuck chocolate. _This_ is my new favorite guilty pleasure.

We spend the entirety of the movie with fingers, lips and limbs tangled together, though Edward never lets things get too heated. He remains a complete gentleman, but I don't feel the slightest bit cheated this time. Because even though I'm dying for more, each kiss and caress brings a promise of what is yet to come.

"You know, I never took you for a_ Harry Potter_ fan," I comment as we leave the theater.

Edward flashes me that arresting uneven smirk of his. "I'm not."

That surprises me. "Really? Then what made you want to come all the way out here to watch that movie?"

His smile broadens. "You did."

I did? I don't ever remember mentioning that I was into Harry Potter…

Edward shakes his head and rolls his eyes at my confused expression. "Maybe I should say that you inspired me with your whole 'PG-13' thing. I wanted to be able to actually spend some time with you outside of the hospital, and a movie seemed like a good idea. A theater with _balcony seating _seemed like an even better idea," he explains with a waggle of his eyebrows, making me flush. "They could have been playing a documentary about crop rotation for all I cared."

He beams at me as he laces his fingers through mine, and he doesn't release my hand the entire way back home.

**XXX**

Later that night, after the best date of my entire existence, I burrow into my covers, restlessly tossing and turning while I wait for sleep to take me. But I can't get Edward off my mind, and tonight the nagging ache I'm becoming familiar with whenever I think of him is worse than usual.

I want him. I'm fucking horny as hell, and I want him so badly I can hardly stand it.

I can't sleep like this. I feel like I'm crawling out of my own skin. Maybe if I just try to take some of the tension away that will help…

You know, flick the bean? Double-click the mouse? Diddle the skittle?

Ha. If only it were that easy.

I take a deep breath. It's not like it's a big deal. Masturbation is completely normal and natural, and plenty of men and women do it all the time…right?

_I'm_ just not one of them.

Not that I'm a complete stranger to the self-love department. I've _tried_ it before…but let's just say I've never quite been _successful._

I close my eyes and try to relax. Alice is staying over at Jasper's tonight. The house is empty. I'm completely alone.

My mind drifts back to the call room, and I think about Edward's lips hungrily devouring mine…about his hands, and what it felt like when they were everywhere but where I wanted them to be. I imagine him tearing my scrubs off my body, assertively ripping away my bra, leaving me almost bare and vulnerable.

My hands—no, _Edward's hands_—poke under my tee shirt and tentatively stroke my belly up and down, those lovely long fingers slowly drifting up to my breasts. I feel my nipples pucker and harden as fingertips graze and circle the sensitive skin.

Hmmm…I wonder if Edward's a breast man? He was certainly very attentive to my ass, but I wonder if that was because of the payback thing or maybe he's actually an ass man…

Fuck! Where was I? Oh yes, Edward was groping my breasts.

I envision his hands lingering lightly at first, then increasing the pressure a bit. He pinches a nipple…_hmmm, not quite sure if I like that or not…_hands decide to travel southbound and dip into my panties and between my legs, finding warm, wet flesh.

_My, oh my_…that does feel nice. I try to pretend they are his indecently long digits as I stroke and swirl, trying to figure out what feels best. I think about how badly I want those fingers inside me, pumping furiously…

No, I'm sorry. I can't do that to myself. I've got nails, for Chrissake. Best to stay on the outside.

I—no_, he_ focuses his attention on my clit, gradually rubbing harder and faster, as I picture his lips and tongue on my neck, my breasts—maybe even a little bit of teeth…_yes_…

I feel the pleasure building, and I try with everything I've got to believe that Edward is doing this to me. But I seem to have hit a plateau of sorts, with no idea how to push over it.

I tap into all of my fantasies…I think about him bending me over the call room couch, his hands digging into my hips as he pounds into me from behind. Then I imagine him spreading me wide open and using his incredibly talented mouth exactly where I frantically want him most.

But even when I visualize him wrapping my legs around his waist and fucking me against that call room door, I'm getting nowhere fast and can't seem to find any release. And now my hand is tired and I'm painfully aware that it's just not going to happen. So I just stop, my chest heaving, and I stare angrily at the ceiling.

I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like I've _ever_ been able to climax before—with my efforts or anyone else's, for that matter—but I'm beyond frustrated and desperately disheartened nonetheless.

But deep down inside, even though I don't want to admit it to myself, I'm hoping…no, _praying_…that Edward Cullen could be the one to change my luck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, people.**

An official first date! They're making progress, right?

So, I got a little secret. Jenjiveg, the evil genius who writes "Inappropriate Touching," has agreed to do a crossover of sorts, and one of her characters will be making a "special appearance" in the next chapter of ToB! So I'm giving you homework...go check out Inappropriate Touching (link is in my Favorites)! For research purposes of course : )

Hugs to the lovely lemon h00rs who provide endless inspiration, and to you incredible peeps reading this. Thank you.

And a big thank you to drtammy1511 for letting me borrow the bungee cord ; )


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello again! As mentioned last week, this chapter contains a crossover with "Inappropriate Touching" by Jenjiveg. If you haven't read it, have no fear! You shouldn't be missing all that much here. If you have any questions, feel free, just ask. She will be posting a companion piece as an outtake. I'll put the link in my profile once it posts.**

**Endless thanks to Prettyflour and NKubie for all their help with this chapter, and to sabriel017 and mcc101180 for being amazing betas.**

**As always, all my love to Pennyloafer and Beccagold.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

**EPOV**

"Whoa, easy, bro! You're gonna break my nose if you don't ease up!"

Emmett and I are sparring at the gym just like we do every other weekend we're both free, and I'm so focused that his words surprise me. I immediately back up and drop my gloved hands to my sides, and I take a moment to catch my breath.

Emmett studies me and grimaces. "What the fuck, man? I don't know what's up your ass, but don't take it out on me. I thought now that you were gettin' some you'd lighten up."

I pull off my gloves and pull up my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. I give him a hostile, pointed glare.

His answering expression is incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me! I totally thought you two were fucking."

I wish I still had my goddamn gloves on. "I'm not _fucking _her, Em," I growl through clenched teeth. I grab my water bottle and guzzle it down.

"Why the hell not?"

At first my temper flares, but I see genuine confusion in his eyes and it deflates me.

The truth of the matter is that I don't even know anymore.

The more I tried to keep a comfortable, friendly distance with Bella, the more consumed by her I've become. Wanting what I'm not supposed to have.

My attempts to keep things light between us were only fueling my frustration, and _she _certainly wasn't making anything easy for me. Taking her out for a "G-rated" date did nothing to placate our growing need for more.

"I still have to work with her for another week or so," I mutter.

"So what? I still work with Rose. Sorry, bro, I don't get it."

"Rose isn't your student. It's completely different." I insist.

Emmett rolls his eyes. "So she takes call with you a few nights. Who the fuck cares? It's not like you have any influence on her grades or anything." He narrows his eyes while he examines me, and it pisses me off even more. "You're two consenting adults. What you do outside of the hospital on your own time is your business. Shit, if it bothers you that much, I'll switch call with you, and that'll be the end of it."

I consider this for a moment, but I quickly realize that it doesn't completely solve the issue I'm really struggling with.

The fact that I am her preceptor is just the tip of the iceberg. My real concern is much more complicated than that.

If I had to be completely honest, my real apprehension had more to do with the fact that she's moving back to Forks in two months. Did I really want to risk getting invested only to have to let her go? What other option was there? Deal with a long distance relationship, or hope that she'll decide to stay in New York?

I could never _ask_ her to do that.

She has a life back home. A job lined up. A father who already disliked me and would hate me for luring his only daughter across the country.

"It's more than that," I answer, defeated, and I head back to the locker room.

Emmett follows. "What the fuck is going on with you?" Nosy fucker. He sits next to me on one of the long benches.

"It's complicated," I try to explain. "I already told you she's from my hometown. She's going back home in two months."

Emmett just shrugs. "Okay. So just have some fun, then. No big deal. She's obviously game."

I lean forward and glare at the floor, resting my forearms on my thighs as I crack my knuckles. I feel Emmett's eyes on me, but I say nothing.

"Fuck," I hear Emmett mutter. "It is a big deal, isn't it?"

I can't even respond. I just turn my head away and scrub the back of my neck.

"You're gonna have to talk to her—especially if time is an issue." _Thank you, Dr. Phil._ "You're not doing either one of you any good with this emo shit."

"I know."

_Believe me, I know._

I don't know why I keep the absurd indecision going in my head. Deep down, I knew my mind was made up the night I drove her home from the bar.

I just want to get to know her at my own pace without restrictions and time limits. But I can't deny what I want. I know I have to stop floundering in limbo and move forward. As much as I hate to admit that Emmett is right, I do need to talk to her.

_Fuck it._ It was time to take the plunge and let the chips fall where they may.

I actually felt a little bit lighter as the weight of my indecision lifted, and a sense of optimism washed over me.

"She's a great girl, you know," Emmett comments off-handedly.

I just nod and I can't help but smile. "I'm sure your opinion has nothing to do with her cooking."

Emmett chuckles good-naturedly. "No, but it doesn't hurt, either. C'mon, bro. Let's clean up and get outta here. I'll buy lunch."

**XXX**

**BPOV**

I'm having a weird and crappy day.

I'm tired. I'm hungry. Even my chocolate isn't making me feel better.

Welcome to Cooch Clinic hell.

The prenatal clinic in the morning was enjoyable. I really like following women through different stages of pregnancy.

Gyno clinic in the afternoon was an entirely different story. Pap smears, feminine infections, and sexually transmitted diseases just don't do it for me. I used to think an eternity of bathing suit shopping was the epitome of my own personal hell, but I think Cooch Clinic may be worse.

There's some pretty _nasty_ shit out there. Stuff that could make a girl swear off sex forever.

I pick up the chart for the next room. It's a routine exam, but I'm learning that there's no such thing in this place. The last "routine exam" was a fourteen year old brought in by her mother for a "virginity test." When I asked if she meant a pregnancy test, she insisted that she wanted that "pee test that could tell her if her daughter was still a virgin."

You can't make this crap up. Seriously.

I look through the chart and see that it's a new patient, so I'll have to do a full history. Then I notice the name, and I do a double-take.

_Bella Swan._

Okay…we've just upgraded the day from weird and crappy to full moon status.

What are the odds? I guess it is possible…there are only what, two-gazillion people living in New York City? I'm sure several have the same name.

I take a deep breath, and I walk into the room to find a slim girl with long brown hair sitting on the examination table. She has the thin paper gown on backwards, and she's got her arms folded across her chest, pulling the flimsy paper together. Her legs are tightly crossed, and I notice several healing bruises and scrapes on her knees.

"Hi, I'm—'' I hesitate. Normally I'd introduce myself as Bella Swan, but this poor girl's discomfort is rolling off her in waves, and I'm afraid she'll freak out if I say my name. "Isabella, and I'm a physician assistant student." Yes, that's safe, right? "Do you have any concerns today, or are you here for a general checkup?"

She looks confused for a moment, and then blurts out an "Oh!" as her blush deepens. Good God, she's worse than I am. "Uh…I need something…" She pauses again, and her eyes immediately cast downward as she squeaks out a barely audible, "Birth control."

_All-righty then._

"Okay, I'll just need to take a history and physical, and then we can discuss which forms of birth control would be best for you."

"History?" she rasps incredulously. She looks like I just told her she's going to have to parade naked down Main Street. She shifts around on the table uncomfortably and clutches at the gown so tightly that she's ripped it in several immodest places.

"Oh, gosh, sorry about the stupid paper gown. Would you like a new one?"

She tries to cover herself, only pulling the paper over to expose the other breast. I quickly pull another gown out of the cabinet and hand it to her, turning my back to give her some privacy. "It will cover more if you put it on with the ties in the back," I offer. I hear a lot of rustling and crunching, so I give her an extra minute before asking if she's ready.

"So, where were we," I begin, trying to get back on track as I look through the medical questionnaire I'm supposed to go through. I begin with a general medical history, and it's akin to pulling teeth.

When I ask her if she takes any medications, she looks confused again and coughs. "No?" she says at first, seeming unsure, then blurts a louder "No!" causing me to jerk back in surprise and make me wonder if maybe she _should_ be.

As I go through the history, I notice she coughs_ a lot_. It almost seems like a tic of sorts, but I can't be sure. "Are you sure you don't have asthma? How long have you had that cough?"

She avoids eye contact as she answers. "I don't talk a lot," she explains as she makes a face as if something tastes bad and swallows thickly. "Is there any water?"

I feel like a total shit. The poor girl is either pathologically shy or has social phobia of some sort. I feebly offer her some of the tap water from the sink, and she takes it gratefully.

I internally groan as I skim the rest of the questionnaire, because I see things just going downhill from here. I ask about drug or alcohol use, and she starts getting all twitchy again.

"Um…I drink sometimes, but, uh...not, you know, _a lot..._" She trails off, fingering her gown.

"Social drinking? How much? How frequently?" I quantify, intrigued. I start mentally flipping through my psych notes. If she drinks a lot in social situations, that would support a social anxiety disorder.

"Social?" She lets out this sort of choking cough. She looks up at me briefly. She admits to having a few drinks on dates.

Interesting.

"Do you drink on all dates?"

She flushes. "Only the ones…when…uh…I expect to get laid," she mumbles.

_Well I'll be damned_. How come that didn't work for me?

Her eyes widen as she takes in my expression. "Don't you?"

"Don't I what?" I ask, caught off guard by her sudden interest in actually talking.

"No, never mind," she mutters, and she looks away.

I'm suddenly optimistic that I am breaking some ground with her. She's actually initiating conversation, and I want her to feel comfortable. "No, it's okay. What?"

She examines my face for a moment. "Um, drink…like to uh, _you know_…I mean…that's normal?" Her expression is almost pleading, looking to me for reassurance. But all I can think of is how I crashed and burned the last time I tried a few drinks to relax around Edward. Was I looking to get laid? Well, not on a conscious level…but would I have if given the opportunity? Hell fucking yeah!

To my sheer mortification, I realize she's watching me and waiting nervously for my reply while I have this ridiculous inner debate. I clear my throat before I speak. "Oh…Well, I don't really handle my alcohol very well, and I don't really date all that much these days…" I want to smack myself as I hear the verbal diarrhea spewing from my mouth. Brilliant, Bella! Make her feel better about herself by pointing out what an epic loser you are.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

She watches me with something akin to pity in her soft brown eyes. "I'm sorry," she mutters, and I feel like an idiot for making her feel bad.

"Yeah. Me too," I say with an apologetic smile. I decide to try redirecting the awkwardness by using that little confession as a segue into the sexual history. "So, are you currently dating anyone, and are you sexually active?"

She immediately looks panicked, and her eyes start darting around the room. "Uh…I don't know…um…maybe?"

Shit…I can't help it, that inappropriate nervous giggle wants to just burst right out…I bite the inside of my cheek as hard as I can to choke it back and try to maintain some semblance of professionalism. "You don't know if you're dating, or if you're sexually active?"

Double shit! That totally didn't come out sounding right! Could this get any worse?

At first she almost looks offended, but her expression morphs into one of confusion, and her reply completely takes me off guard. "Uh…define sexually active."

"Fuck," I hiss to myself. Do I really have to explain this?

She hears my little transgression and looks right at me. "No," she replies definitively.

_Good God. It can get worse. _I want to facepalm and crawl into a hole.

"I mean, are you currently engaging in any kind of sexual activity, including oral, anal or vaginal intercourse?" I clarify, completely disregarding the embarrassing exchange.

_Yes. I am actually supposed to say these things in a detailed sexual history._

She blushes and smacks her forehead, mumbling "Oh." She looks like she's composing herself before she looks back up at me. "Um….yes? But it's been pretty safe," she adds defensively.

Even Miss Antisocial here is getting more action than I am. Fuck my life.

I sigh. "Are you currently using any forms of birth control?"

"No…But...well…" She hesitates again, and I wait patiently. "Uh, we haven't, you know…" She trails off and gestures her hand in a circle, silently imploring me to understand without making her say it out loud. I nod to let her know I get it.

I look at the questionnaire for where to go next and can't believe I'm supposed to ask this embarrassing crap. "Do you currently have one or more partners?" I ask, internally cringing.

Much to my surprise, she doesn't seem fazed by the question. "One...well...um..." Her brow knits. "Do I count me?"

A giggle escapes before I can stifle it. She's just so endearing in her own way, I can't help myself. "No, you don't have to count you, considering you don't need any protection, you know, with that."

"Oh," she answers with a blush and a weak smile. "Right…Just one, _not_ including me."

"And up to this point, there has been no actual intercourse, and no birth control?"

"Um…with...the ONE recent?" She coughs again. "None with Edward, no," she chokes out.

Wait…._what?_

_No. Fucking. Way._

Did she just fucking say _Edward_, or is the suffocating discomfort in the room finally doing things to my brain?

I definitely must have heard wrong, because there is no way that Miss Bella Swan from the Twilight Zone is actually discussing another Edward. Unless she's fucking with me. Fuck yes! This is a total setup! That has to be it! I'm being punk'd! This must be a friend of Alice's…or maybe Emmett…would Emmett do something like this to me? No, definitely Alice.

I then extract myself from my little mental freak-out, expecting to see Miss Closet-case laughing at me, but she isn't. She sits there, totally serious, eyeing me more than curiously as she cocks her head to the side and scrutinizes me with narrowed eyes, like _she's_ wondering if _I _might be a little insane.

Oh fuck, Alice is right. _Chronic and prolonged sexual deprivation does indeed cause brain damage._ I now just have to hope that it's reversible.

I take a deep breath and look at her chart, checking the questionnaire again, trying to regroup and get back on track. Get a fucking grip! I probably just heard her wrong. My mind must be playing tricks on me. _Stay professional._

She wraps her arms tighter around her waist, like she's cocooning herself. She mutters about how cold it is in the room and asks if she can put on her socks.

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry—it is a bit cold in here. Why don't you let me get the exam over with so you can get dressed quicker?" _And we both can get out of this goddamn room quicker._ "Is that okay? I'm just going to check your heart and lungs quickly...and then do a pelvic and breast exam. You've had one done before, right?" I reach into a drawer and take out pair of examination gloves. As I'm putting them on, I hear the table paper rustling and crunching. I glance up at my patient and see that she's making the noise, shifting around on the table and nervously tapping it with her fingers.

"A what?" she practically squeaks.

Aw, fuck. Please tell me she's not going to freak out about the exam! I start fidgeting with my gloves. "A gynecologic exam? You know, _down there_?"

She starts getting even twitchier. "Oh…and…uh...are you...uh...gonna wear…uh…" She practically trips over her words, and then makes that odd gasping cough that sounds more like she's choking on her own saliva. "_Latex gloves_?"

"Yes, I have to. Why, do you have a latex allergy? I'm so sorry, I should have asked you about allergies already..." I curse myself under my breath for being such a moron. Of course she'd be freaking out if she's got a latex allergy! I could have put the girl into anaphylaxis for chrissakes!

She shocks me even further by laughing. Yes, laughing. It sounds strained and unnatural and downright _odd_.

Holy fuck…maybe I should add bipolar into the differential diagnosis?

I sigh with relief when she assures me she has no allergy. I make sure she's okay and proceed with my exam. But when I tell her to lie down on the table, she squirms again and lies back awkwardly, stiff as a board with her legs firmly pressed together. She asks me if I'll still be wearing gloves.

Am I missing something here? "Yes, of course." I'm about to continue when she clears her throat and stiffens even more. Something definitely isn't right. "Um...do you have a problem with latex? Like a phobia or something? I can see if we have latex-free gloves..."

"No!" she shouts, making me lurch back in surprise. "I mean...it's...um...it's okay. I'm okay."

She takes a few deep breaths and tries her best to relax while I palpate her abdomen. All seems calm until I pull out the stirrups and ask her to place her feet in them. I hear her whimper as she complies while keeping her knees firmly locked together. I calmly ask her if she could relax her legs so I could do the exam, and she starts babbling incoherently. When I look up at her, I see her hands are covering her face.

"Um…see…I'm embarrassed," she mumbles into her hands.

_Really? I hadn't noticed._

"I know, and I'm sorry. Would it make you feel any better to know I'm worse than this when I have to go?" Ain't that the truth. I almost squirmed off the table at my first gyn visit. "Don't worry, okay?"

"No...it's…It's the gloves!" she wails, and lets out a groan. "They make me...you know...I mean…"

I furrow my brow with concentration, trying to make out what the hell she's rambling about. "The gloves? What is it? You said you weren't allergic!" In my panic I realize I'm fidgeting with the latex, and I stop myself.

She sees my confusion and lets out a frustrated moan. "No! I'm the opposite of allergic! They make me…you know…I mean, it's not YOU! I like boys…but the gloves…you know?" she practically screeches at me.

The opposite of allergic? Likes boys? I'm trying to process this, but….

And then it hits me. Like a fucking head-on train wreck. My mouth forms a perfect "O," and my face gets so hot with my embarrassment that I think the top layer may just peel off.

_Oh, good God…Beam me up Scottie, I've had enough!_

I am definitely being punk'd. I'm dying to just call this girl out right here on the spot and look around for the hidden camera.

"Oh! You, you know, _like_ latex?" I blurt out, making sure I understand this total clusterfuck properly. If Alice is behind this, I am _so_ going to kill the fucking gnome!

She nods her head shamefully, staring up at the ceiling, her face as red as mine. I realize my head is bobbing frantically with hers as we realize we're finally on the same page.

My hopes that this is all just a bad practical joke fly out the window as she assumes the position.

She apologizes profusely as she relaxes her knees and lets her legs open, not wanting me to think _I'm_ the reason she's so…

_Holy shit! She really is rather…well-lubricated_…

From a latex fetish?

I try not to think about it. I _can't_ think about it. So I just reassure her and try to go about the exam as professionally—and quickly—as possible, ignoring the barely audible squeaks and whimpers I pretend not to hear.

When we finish, I offer her some tissues, and she grabs the entire box. "Do you have any…um…towels?" she asks sheepishly.

Shit…I start looking through cabinets and drawers, muttering under my breath about how cheap this hospital is when all I can find are paper towels. She interrupts my fruitless treasure hunt by clearing her throat loudly, making me stop and look at her.

"Can I just have a box of those?" she asks, and I glance to where she's pointing and see a box of gloves. I just smile and hand her the entire box.

Now that the most excruciatingly painful exam of my entire career has come to an end, I discuss birth control options. Not surprisingly she admits she prefers condoms—_shocker_—but she rambles about some kind of a bad experience with a dental dam and insists she needs backup protection. She decides that DepoProvera injections sound like the most convenient option. I give her the first shot today.

"So...don't take this the wrong way, but...Can you do the shot next time?" she asks shyly.

At first I'm flattered, thinking that maybe I actually earned her trust, but when I see her eyeing the boxes of gloves on the shelf, I realize she's probably just hoping she's found a regular latex supplier. I suppress a chuckle.

I explain that I won't be around in three months when she's ready for her next shot, but assure her that at least she won't need another exam for a year. She looks disappointed, and I feel guilty.

I take another box of gloves down from the shelf and hand it to her with a smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Bella."

She takes the second box with an awkward smile in return and thanks me.

I close the door behind me on what has to be the most bizarre experience of my entire life and look at my watch. I pop a piece of Dark Chocolate Krackel into my mouth—my new favorite—and thank heaven that the day is over in two more hours.

I decide to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home.

**XXX**

The following day in clinic feels a little less painful, but after yesterday, I'm essentially desensitized. Plus, I'm on call with Edward tonight, and it gives me something to look forward to.

I'm thrilled that I finish up a little early, so I decide to take the opportunity to take a quick shower in the residents' lounge and wash the clinic off me. The hot water revives me, and I feel rejuvenated as I put on a pair of fresh scrubs and set out to heat up dinner.

Edward comes in just as I'm putting our food in the microwave. He surprises me by pulling me close for a quick kiss hello. I feel myself flush, and my face and chest warm even further as he skims his nose along my neck.

"Mmm…you smell fresh," he comments and fingers a damp ringlet at the nape of my neck. He releases me with a warm smile. "So what's for dinner?"

For a fleeting moment, I wonder what it would be like to have him come _home_ to me; I imagine him tossing his lab coat on a chair, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing my neck while I cook dinner…_or should I say burn dinner._

I snap out of my silly little daydream and give myself a mental thunk upside the head for being so ridiculous.

After all, life isn't always about playing house and white picket fences. Sometimes it can be about a nice fling with a beautiful man with sonnet-worthy lips and fantasy-inducing fingers. And a fuckhot jawline I'm dying to bite.

_Right?_

"Eggplant parmesan," I say as I bring it out of the microwave. His bright green eyes light up as the aroma hits him, and he looks downright entranced as he watches me place the dishes filled with generous portions of saucy, cheesy goodness on the table.

"That's my favorite, you know," he says huskily, and he licks his lips.

_Rawrrr…_

"I do know. You may have mentioned that before," I say with a smug grin.

The night starts out relatively mellow at first; Edward gets a few random calls from L&D about orders, but the floor is pretty quiet. I brought my suturing kit to practice a bit more during down time. Edward brought a movie on his laptop.

_The Shawshank Redemption._

Delighted, I sit with him on the couch, and he pulls me close, toying with my ponytail absentmindedly while we watch.

I feel like I'm in my own personal heaven. I luxuriate in his warmth and breathe in his unique delectable scent. I could die a happy woman right now.

Nah, who am I kidding? I've got a few more things I want to do with this man before I can do that.

It's almost 11:30 p.m. and Andy Dufresne is crawling through yards of sewage to reach freedom when Edward gets a call.

_Fucking pager._

He answers and looks over to me apologetically. "Time to make the donuts," he says with a sigh.

The shit hits the fan from there on. We get tied up with a patient whose labor has stalled, and when Pitocin fails, ends up needing a C-section. We are then hit with two back-to-back deliveries, and I end up getting less than two hours of broken sleep.

Edward treats me to a Starbucks chai latte and a cranberry scone in the morning, and I'm grateful that I somehow survive rounds with Baker. I feel like the walking dead by the time I finish rounds and make it back to the lounge, but I'm ecstatic to find Edward waiting to walk me back to my car again.

Which I just so happened to conveniently park in the most remote area of the parking garage.

"I'm sorry last night was such a rough one," Edward says softly once we reach my car. "Do you feel okay to drive?"

I chew on my lip as I fidget with the lapel of his leather jacket. "Well, I am pretty tired," I reply casually and lean back against my car door. "Can you suggest anything that could make me feel a little more alert for the long drive home?" I peer up at him coyly, hoping he takes the bait.

A devilish grin twitches about his lips as he glances around the empty garage. "Hmm…coffee?"

I scowl at him and playfully swat him in the chest. The ovaries are feeling really bold this morning, and so I grab his jacket and pull him toward me until his delicious lips meet mine.

He quickly deepens the kiss, and I zealously take the opportunity to taste him, greeting his slick tongue with mine. Oh, good heavens, I could just eat him for breakfast! His mouth is so warm and welcoming, and I can detect a hint of his minty toothpaste mixed with his unfiltered Edward flavor; it's heady and addictive.

I lose all concept of time and place as Edward's mouth tantalizes and teases mine with noticeably less restraint than I'm accustomed to. He presses my body against the car, trapping me beneath his solid form as his hands firmly graze down my body, provocatively skimming the sides of my breasts and going straight for my ass—effectively sending a wake-up call directly to my lady bits and making me gasp.

_Well, well, well. Dr. Fuck-me is most certainly an ass man after all._

He has me completely consumed with want—practically ready to rip off my clothing and start shamelessly grinding into him right here—but then I hear a low, frustrated groan emanate from him, and he tones things down, bringing his hands back up to cradle my face.

He playfully nips at my lower lip as he gently pulls back, and I can tell by the way he's trying to regulate his breathing that he's just as effected as I am. He leans his forehead against mine and smiles down at me.

"Now I think my bones are too soft for me to drive," I mumble weakly as my racing heart tries to calm down. He chuckles and places one last soft kiss on my tingling lips before he releases me. I take few deep breaths to compose myself and smooth my hair and clothes.

"I really do wish last night wasn't so bad. I wanted to spend some time with you today," he begins, and then he starts absently rubbing the back of his neck. "But I was wondering if you had any plans this weekend."

"This weekend?" I parrot back.

_Sometimes my quick wit and intelligence amaze me. _

"Yes, well…I was hoping I could take you out for dinner tomorrow night."

"Dinner?" _Oh, come on, now! You can do better than that, damnit!_ "No," I hear myself say, and his brow furrows and his face falls. My eyes widen when I realize my error. "I mean, I don't have any plans," I add quickly. "For dinner…or anything."

_Good God, I'm a complete nimrod_. I want to kick my own ass for being so stupid, but the relieved smile that immediately illuminates his beautiful features makes me forgive myself.

"Good," he replies with a definitive nod. "I'll pick you up at seven."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm supposed to obnoxiously remind you that Stephenie Meyer Owns Twilight. **

Thank you jenjiveg for letting me borrow your latex-loving Bella! This was a blast to write!

And of course, love to the naughty lemon h00rs and to you lovely peeps in fanficland. Thank you.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey again! **

**Thank you to Prettyflour and NKubie for pre-reading and keeping me off the ledge. To jenjiveg for "pimping my ride" (pun intended). To mcc101180 for her amazing beta skills. To Lux123 (she knows why). And always to Pennyloafer and Beccagold (feel better!).**

**Enough of my blathering. On to the date.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 <strong>

I'm a bona fide nervous wreck. My neurotic brain has been up since 4:47 a.m., and since I couldn't go back to sleep, I kept myself as occupied as possible to calm my crazy nerves.

By mid-morning, I've cleaned the apartment, gone food shopping, and done an hour-long Pilates DVD. I'm in the middle of cleaning out my closet and cursing at my pathetic wardrobe, completely frustrated that everything I own is either comfy-casual or "clinically professional," when I realize Alice is standing in my doorway, watching me curiously.

"You've been quite the busy bee, haven't you?"

I turn around and sigh with exasperation. I'm about to do something that pains me more than anything, but it's a necessary evil. I put on my best poker face and look her square in the eye. "I need to go clothes shopping."

Alice lights up like a Christmas tree and practically trembles with excitement. Before she has a spontaneous orgasm right there on the spot, I lay down the law. "I just need an opinion, and that's _all_. I don't need a designer wardrobe, and if you try to play 'Bella Barbie' with me, you're walking home. _Are we perfectly clear?"_

She sticks out her bottom lip and pretends to pout. "You suck."

My lips twitch with amusement. "According to Jasper, you've got that market cornered," I quip.

Alice just snickers. "Yes, I do," she answers with a smug grin. "Maybe you should try it sometime, Bella."

I roll my eyes and let out an exaggerated groan. "I've already explained this to you. I'm quite the willing participant." _Understatement of the century_. "He's the one who keeps putting the brakes on."

"Maybe that will change tonight," she retorts with a suggestive grin.

"Not likely," I grumble. "He's made it pretty clear that he's holding back until after I finish the rotation."

"What a waste," she says, shaking her head. "I'm sure there's some way you can convince him to let you get something out of his pants beside his pager."

I snort at that. "If there is, I've yet to figure it out," I grumble. "Now come on, get your scrawny ass in the shower. It's my turn to be pushy bitch today."

**XXX**

Alice exercises unparalleled restraint, and she helps me pick out a rich, charcoal sweater dress that makes me feel pretty without looking like I'm trying too hard. The fact that she insists that I look like a Victoria's Secret model in it _may _have swayed my decision just a teensy bit. I buy a pair of thigh-high pointelle socks to go with it, since I hate wearing tights because anything tight or constricting around my waist drives me crazy.

Alice leaves to go to Jasper's apartment around five o'clock, wishing me luck with a hug, and I'm practically bouncing off the walls with nervous anticipation.

Edward picks me up promptly at seven, and I think my mouth actually starts to water the moment I open the door. He's wearing a crisp, chambray-blue button-down shirt under his black leather jacket, and he's freshly shaven. The usually haphazard sex hair is now stylishly tousled. The ovaries and girlie bits enthusiastically approve, and I just want to pounce on him.

But what really does me in is the way he licks his lips as he eyes me up and down appreciatively. It makes me flush and take in a sharp breath as I look away from his intense gaze.

"Hi there," he murmurs in that silky, smooth voice, and the left side of his mouth lifts into that fuckhot grin I love. It makes me smile in return, and I snort at myself for being such a goofy girl.

"Hi," I answer in a breathless, barely audible voice. Why am I suddenly feeling like a shy fifteen-year-old on her first date? "Come in, I just have to grab my coat."

"Is Alice here?" he asks.

"No, she's staying with Jasper for the weekend. She's barely ever home lately."

I feel ridiculously anxious as I put on my trench coat with noticeably trembling hands and chastise myself for it. I chance a peek over at Edward, and he's glancing around the apartment, scrubbing the back of his neck. I smile to myself and find it oddly reassuring that he may be just as nervous as I am.

Edward leads me to his car with his hand resting on the small of my back and opens the passenger door of the silver Volvo for me.

"So where are we going?" I ask as I settle into the warm black leather seat, and I notice he has the seat warmer on. My thighs and rear thank him for being such a considerate gentleman on this brisk evening.

"I figure we'll get dinner, and then go out for a while afterward," he answers vaguely.

I quirk my eyebrow. "Could you be a little more specific?"

He just grins. "You'll enjoy it," he replies confidently. I roll me eyes and cross my legs. His eyes are immediately drawn to them, and I realize that a little more of my thigh is exposed, allowing the top of my thigh-high and a little slip of skin to show.

Hmmm…It seems to be bit of a distraction for him.

I smile and bite my lip but say nothing, casually pulling my jacket closed to cover up. I chance a side glance at him, and I take pleasure in the sexy twitch of his jaw.

_Oh, I'm definitely going to enjoy it._

**XXX**

Edward takes me to a relatively moderate-sized house that has been converted into a restaurant somewhere on the north shore of Long Island. It's tastefully decorated in neutral colors and dark, rich wood. The large dining room is flanked with small intimate tables, and even though it's crowded, it still feels homey and intimate. After a short wait, we are seated next to a large fireplace filled with lit votive candles, making the atmosphere warm and inviting.

"So, I'm very curious to hear how you know my father," Edward says after we place our dinner orders.

I look away and let out a low groan. "I really don't feel like getting into this at the moment," I whine, fidgeting with my napkin.

I hear him chuckle and look up to find him grinning with delight, knowing he found a button to push. "Oh, I definitely want to hear about it now."

I fold my arms across my chest. "I've seen him at the ER," I answer vaguely.

"You mentioned that. I want details, woman," he answers with an evil smirk.

I give him my best bitch-glare. "You are such a brat, you know that?"

He leans forward and rests his forearms on the table.

He really does have nice forearms. All defined and wiry…I wonder if they got that way from all the surgical scrubbing—

"Bella." He interrupts my inner musings, and my eyes shoot back up to his. He's eyeing me with an amused expression that tells me he knows I've taken another mental detour. _Oops._

I sigh with resignation and tell him—with minimal details—about my cliff-diving incident and the motorcycle accident, as well as the smattering of injuries incurred during my cooking endeavors.

"You seriously dove off one of those cliffs at La Push? What the hell were you thinking?"

I want to laugh. He sounds just like Charlie. "I don't know," I confess, feeling foolish all over again. "Everybody else was doing it? I was fourteen! It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Instead of laughing at my sheer stupidity as I expect, he looks like he's somewhere else, his eyebrows knit together like he's deep in thought.

"What?" I ask, worried that maybe now he considers me someone worthy of a Darwin Award.

"I was just realizing that my father must know your family pretty well."

"I guess you could say that," I reply with a nod. "He's a great doctor, and he always took good care of me. My parents think very highly of him."

He's quiet for a moment, and his demeanor is much heavier now. I bring my hands into my lap, realizing they're getting shaky as his silence starts to unnerve me.

His contemplative green eyes meet mine, and he takes in my expression and his face softens. "Is everything okay?" I ask, concerned. What was it that I said? Where did he go?

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then he merely smiles. "Everything's just fine," he says simply, his eyes gently reassuring me. It kills me to know there's more than that, but I leave it be…though it reminds me how much our lives have paralleled without intersecting until now. I can't help but wonder if he's thinking about the same thing.

The waiter arrives with our entrees, thankfully interrupting the awkward air between us.

The lobster ravioli I chose smells absolutely divine and tastes even better. The sauce is delicate, yet rich and buttery, and there are actual chunks of succulent lobster meat throughout. Edward graciously accepts when I offer him some, and I put a sample on the edge of his plate.

"You have to try this," he tells me after he tastes his meal. He starts to cut a piece for me, but I raise a hand to stop him, shaking my head.

"No thank you, I'm good," I politely decline.

He eyes me dubiously, furrowing his brow. "_You're_ declining food?"

"I don't eat fish."

"But you're eating lobster," he contests.

"That's because it's shellfish. I like shellfish."

"But this is absolutely delicious. It's grouper, and it's cooked perfectly."

"I said I'm fine," I insist.

"Why don't you eat fish?"

"Why do I have to?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Why are you being difficult?"

"Because I don't like fish."

"Why not?"

I huff softly. Why won't he let this go? "My mom kind of ruined it for me. You know how you felt about meatloaf? That's how I feel about fish."

"Ah, but I tried your meatloaf, and I loved it," he argues.

"Did your mother's meatloaf _squeak_?"

"Did you just say squeak?" The look on his face is priceless.

"Yes, I did. My mother used to cook fish until it was so dry it actually squeaked while you chewed it." I cringe at the memory and recall how thankful I was that we had a dog—a loyal yellow lab that saved me from many of Renee's painful culinary catastrophes.

His expression is a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Aren't you the one who likes to chew ice because it squeaks?"

_Ugh! I did say that, didn't I?_

"Allow me to elaborate. Squeaky ice is good. Squeaky fish, not so good."

He leans back and laughs. "You sure are something, you know that?"

I know I'm blushing. "Yes, I believe you've said something along those lines before."

He cuts a small piece of the fish with his fork and leans in, bringing it close to my lips. "Just try it," he prods, using that honeyed, seductive voice. "For me."

_Oh, the power behind those two simple words_…does he even realize it?

I glance at the seemingly innocent piece of food skeptically, trying not to think about the fishy-tasting, rubbery abomination my mother used to make. Edward _did _try my meatloaf because he didn't want to offend me…I can suck it up and take one for the team.

I take the fork from him with a begrudging glare, and he holds my gaze as I tentatively bring the morsel to my mouth.

I chew slowly, expecting the worst.

He watches me carefully, waiting for my reaction. "Well?"

"It's…good," I finally admit softly. It's actually better than good. The grouper is surprisingly light and flaky, and it could even be described as downright tasty. I almost find it difficult to believe that it's actually fish.

"No squeak?" he asks, smug grin predictably in place.

I roll my eyes and smile in spite of myself. "No. No squeak."

"Would I ever steer you wrong?"

Well…that remains to be seen.

As delicious as dinner is, I'm wildly giddy about dessert. Edward and I share a chocolate soufflé, which is served with a vanilla bean gelato on the side. It's light and airy on the outside, and decadent, molten chocolate heaven on the inside.

I am a happy, happy gal. Great food,_ amazing_ chocolate dessert, and Edward. I don't think it gets any better than this.

Then I look up and watch this beautiful man lick chocolate off his lips, and the ovaries remind me that yes, it definitely can get better—_and hopefully, in one more God-forsaken week, it will_.

Afterward, we go to a small bar that has live music. It's dimly lit, crowded, boisterous and bristling with an electric vibe. There is an acoustic indie band playing, and they're really good.

The bar only serves beers from around the world, and at first I'm irritated that Edward orders for us without even asking me what I want, until I get my drink. It's an unexpected deep plum color, and he tells me it's a raspberry Belgian beer called Framboise. I take one sip, and I am officially hooked. It doesn't taste like beer at all—it's actually sweet and berrylicious. Definitely shimmy-worthy, and I tell Edward how much I like it.

He grins and kisses me, sweeping his tongue across my lips. "Delicious," he murmurs into my ear, and I feel my entire body heat up.

"This place is so cool," I tell him after a while. "I love this kind of music."

He looks very pleased with himself. "I know. I asked Alice what kind of music you listen to, and she told me about this place. This is their house band."

_Well, color me impressed._ I forgot Edward was working with Alice in the OR, and it tickles me to no end that he'd ask her what I like. He puts his arms around me and holds me close while we enjoy the music.

The fact that Edward is much more affectionate than I'd imagine surprises me. It seems like he touches me every chance he gets; playing with my hair, touching my arm or my back when he leans in close to talk, or placing his hand on my back when we walk. What surprises me even more is how much I like it, since I'm really not a touchy-feely kind of gal. The man is positively lethal, and I realize I'm feeling things that I don't want to even consider.

The ride home is quiet, and I look out the window, thinking about how perfect and wonderful this night was, wishing it wouldn't end.

Edward walks me to my door, and my discontent that the night is coming to a close gets pushed aside when he pulls me close. "I had such a great time tonight. Thank you," I murmur as I nestle into him and breathe him in. His scent, mixed with the smell of his leather jacket, is blissfully intoxicating.

He smiles down at me and strokes my cheek, and the tenderness in his eyes makes my heart go into overdrive. He lifts my chin and takes my top lip between his, and then the bottom one. I sigh happily and open slightly, my tongue peeking out to taste his bottom lip. He hums with approval and opens up to me, his tongue seeking mine and possessively taking control of my mouth. My body immediately responds, completely addicted to the endorphin rush he provides, and I wrap my arms around him, wanting to get as close as I physically can.

Have I mentioned how much I love kissing this man? His mouth is so warm and delectable, and his tongue is practically making love to mine…

Edward presses me against the door—_holy fuck, do I absolutely love that_—while one hand weaves into my hair and the other drifts southward. I feel it settle on my hip, his thumb kneading my hipbone for a moment before moving down the back of my thigh, lifting it so that I reflexively wrap my leg around him to maintain my balance. The ovaries are in their glory, shamelessly enjoying unrestrained Edward.

Still maintaining his delicious assault on my mouth, his hand creeps upward, ducking under the hem of my dress, stopping at the edge of my thigh-high and running a finger underneath the tight fabric. _Oh. Mah. Gawd…_My hips buck in response, grinding into his _very_ obvious arousal which I can feel pressed against my belly. I grip the hair at the nape of his neck, essentially begging him to keep going wherever it is that he's going.

He breaks the kiss, panting, and I gasp for breath as I feel an unpleasant ache in my chest—and my girlie bits—as I wait for him to put on the brakes. Instead, he pulls back only enough to look at me, and the wild look in his eyes just made one of my ovaries self-combust.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

_What do I want?_ Is he serious?

I want to lick every single inch of his body.

I want him to stay.

_I want him to stop messing around and fuck my brains out already!_

Not that I can actually say any of that out loud…but somehow, even though my brain is completely spazzing out, I manage to rasp out a simple, "You."

The expression on his face intensifies even further. "Then invite me in."

Well, fuck me sideways. Up and down. And everywhere in between.

_Please._

I can't even find words to answer, and I'm _so_ hoping he means what I think he means. I stare at him, slack-jawed and in complete shock, and all I can manage to do is reach into my pocket and hand him my keys, knowing damn well that at this moment there is no way I could find the dexterity necessary to unlock the door myself.

He somehow manages to open my door, and he kisses me hungrily while we both frantically shed our coats and shoes, all the while guiding me backwards through my apartment and into my bedroom.

I'm pushed in reverse until I feel something—I'm pretty sure it's my bed—hit the back of my legs, causing me to fall backwards, giddy and giggling as I pull Edward on top of me.

He smiles down at me with this irresistible, roguish grin before he begins kissing me again, and then I feel hands everywhere. One trails up my covered thigh until he reaches bare skin, and the contact makes my breath stutter. Those tantalizing fingers continue onward until they reach the lacy trim of my panties, and I'm internally begging for him to keep going. He pauses, tugging at my dress with the other hand and growls in my ear, "This has to go."

_Hell fucking yeah!_ I couldn't agree more.

I'm practically lightheaded with lust and need, and my heart hammers away as those hypnotic green eyes look into mine, silently asking permission and waiting for my consenting nod before peeling off my dress. I don't like being the only one exposed, so I awkwardly fumble with the buttons on his shirt with shaky hands, until he takes over and unbuttons a few before pulling it over his head. He then gets to work undoing his pants and I anxiously push them down and off with my feet.

I sigh as he covers my nearly naked body with his, savoring the deliciousness of his warm skin on mine as he presses into me. He cups my face, caressing my lips with his thumb. It feels so intimate, and I'm suddenly possessed to consume him.

I pull him in and kiss the living shit out of him, letting my hands roam around the smooth, lean landscape of his back while his hands start to explore my flesh. My legs wrap around his hips, and I wriggle my body, shifting until I get his very firm erection centered _exactly_ where I want it and grind into him…_oh, good God_…The sensation is incredible, and I delight in the carnal groan it elicits from him.

He breaks away and lifts himself to look down at me. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.

"God, yes," I answer breathlessly, but a tiny twinge of anxiety pokes me in the ribs. "Are you?"

A hand cups my ass, and he grinds himself into my center again. _Gaaahhhhh…_ "Does that answer your question?" he quips with a playful grin. I smile back and kiss him, but he pulls away again. "Do you have anything?"

_Do I have anything?_ What does he mean…like diseases?

I must look offended—or at least confused—because he chuckles as he pushes my hair behind my ear. "Condoms?" he amends quickly. My eyes widen with understanding, and then my heart plummets at the realization that I don't. I solemnly shake my head. I know exactly where they are at the clinic, but that's not going to do me a whole lot of good right now_. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

"I do, but they're in my wallet, which is in my coat pocket on the floor of your living room." _Thank fucking heaven._ "Stay put. I'll be right back."

I immediately feel chilled with the loss of his body heat, but I get to check him out as he walks out of my bedroom wearing nothing but grey boxer briefs. He's lean and defined with lusciously broad shoulders and a really cute, round butt. He glances over his shoulder at me and shoots me the sexiest, smuggest smirk before he disappears out the door.

I'm lying on my bed in nothing but a bra and embarrassingly wet underwear, and it just hits me…_holy fuck on a rope, this is actually happening. _

That's when the hormone rush settles down, and the nerves kick in.

I start wishing I was wearing something sexier than a simple blue cotton bra and matching boy shorts. Doesn't exactly scream sex kitten. A guy who looks like Edward does is probably used to being with girls who look like swimsuit models, and I definitely don't fit into that category. I decide to pull my blanket over myself.

And then the whole orgasm issue starts to fester…What if I can't? I have to accept that it's a likely possibility. Will he expect me to? Would he even notice? After all, no one had up to this point, they just assumed…

"Bella?" Edward's voice pulls me back to the moment, and I take a deep breath, clearing my head of anything but him.

It's obvious by the way he unabashedly stalks toward me that he's confident and comfortable in his own skin, and it's fucking hot as hell. I swallow thickly as he drops several condoms on my night table, and he pulls the covers away before crawling back over my body.

He kisses me soundly, nipping at my bottom lip. "You're fucking stunning, Bella. Don't hide from me," he says gruffly, and he begins to blaze a path of open-mouthed, wet, spine-tingling kisses across my jaw and down my neck while a hand caresses my collar bone, continuing downward to settle between my breasts. His other hand reaches behind my back, effortlessly unhooking my bra. I look at him with surprise and quirk my eyebrow, and he smiles sheepishly.

I gather he's had a lot of practice with that little maneuver.

All thoughts in that direction get pushed aside as his mouth returns to my skin, and his hand slips under the fabric, tracing the swell of my breast and following with his lips.

He pulls my bra away and tosses it, appraising the newly exposed skin before stroking circles around my nipple without actually touching it. He watches with fascination as the aroused peak tightens and contracts, and I want to scream at him to stop teasing me. But then his tongue begins to follow the path his fingers have drawn while his hand caresses and kneads the other side, rendering me absolutely senseless. By the time he actually takes me into his mouth, I'm practically whimpering because it feels so damn good.

My breathing is irregular and ragged as his hands and lips start migrating down my ribs, then my belly, and it feels as if he wants to sample every inch of exposed skin. He reaches my hipbone and grazes it with his teeth…_oh_, _I like that_…and then he places a kiss a little lower on top of my panties.

"I fucking love these," he says, his fingers lifting and pulling the waistband of the boy shorts lower, and when he places another kiss on the freshly bared skin, my body instantly tenses up and my eyes go wide.

Shit—I'm not ready for what I think he's going to do next. Crazy as it may sound—and I can't exactly explain why—but I just can't let him do_ that_ yet. All I want right now is to feel him inside me, the sooner the better. He looks up at me, questioning, and I try to pull him upward. "Come here," I tell him. "I want you. _Now_."

He almost looks disappointed, but he brings his body back up so that we're face-to-face. I grab him behind the neck and draw him in to kiss him feverishly and reach down to cup his erection, making him hiss. _Hot damn_—he is definitely packing some heat down there—the girth alone is impressive.

He reciprocates by dipping his hand into my underwear, and my jaw goes slack with a gasp, and my stomach clenches as I feel the lovely, long fingers I've fantasized about slip through the sensitive, slick flesh below. He coats them with my wetness before gently pushing a single digit inside me, making my eyes roll into the back of my head as he adds another finger and begins to slide them in and out while I stroke him with the same rhythm.

"Fuck, Bella…you're so…" He cuts himself off and stifles our moans by pressing his mouth to mine.

And then I feel his hand slip away as he reaches for a condom. A wrapper is torn, panties and boxers are shed, and he takes a moment to sheath himself and before he aligns his body again.

_Omigod._ This is it.

His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that literally takes my breath away, and I almost can't bear the anticipation that flutters inside me as I feel him settle against my center, sliding up and down once…twice…_holy crow, he feels so good_…and finally, slowly pressing into my entrance.

_Good God…_The stretching sensation is almost overwhelming as he gently pushes into me, inch by inch, and I dig my fingers into his back. Either my theory about vagina shrinkage is accurate, or Edward is forging some new boundaries down there.

"Bella, I need you to relax. I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs in a deep, soothing voice.

My eyes flutter closed, and I take a few deep breaths. His lips brush mine again, and I open my eyes as he strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. The sensual touches calm me, helping me let the tension go. I then wrap my legs around his lower back, relaxing my pelvic muscles as I pull him closer inside, until our hips are finally flush. He waits, watching my face intently, while I adjust to the feeling of being so completely filled.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and it makes me smile.

"Hell yeah," I answer, swiveling my hips and tightening my legs around him, signaling that I'm more than ready.

And then he starts to move inside me, ebbing and flowing…slowly at first, but gradually more robust, establishing a delicious rhythm that feels _fucking fantabulous_. He keeps his eyes trained on me, and I keep my legs wrapped around him, arching to meet him thrust for thrust, submerging myself in the pleasure.

I feel so consumed by him…in his scent, in the guttural grunts and moans escaping his lips, in the friction his body, now slick with a subtle sheen of sweat, is providing. I didn't expect how…_connected_ I'd feel, having him inside me. But as I watch him moving above me, muscles flexing, eyes blazing, brow tightened in concentration and focusing on me as if nothing else existed, I'm stricken by how beautiful he really is…and how beautiful he's making me feel.

But then his jaw starts to tense, and his movements become more erratic as he looks like he's trying to maintain control. His hand moves between us, and he presses his fingers above where we're joined, rubbing frantically and adding another layer of intense pleasure.

"Bella, I can't hold on much longer," he rasps. "I need you to come."

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, _double fuck!_

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push myself over that proverbial edge, desperately attempting to focus on all the sensation he's immersing me in.

But it's not happening.

And I'm sickened with the realization it's not going to.

I run my hands through his hair, massaging his scalp. "Let go, Edward. Please. I want you to."

His eyes widen as they search mine, and then fill with determination. He grabs my legs, bringing them over his shoulders and starts driving into me deeper, faster, hitting a new spot inside me over and over that feels fucking amazing, and the cries that involuntarily escape me prove it…until his body tenses, his jaw goes slack, and I watch in awe as his face contorts with pleasure while his release seizes him with a vengeance.

_Holy fuck, that was hot._

He collapses, leaning his forehead on my shoulder, exhausted and panting. I bring my legs down and wrap them around him, hugging him close while our breathing normalizes, and I gently scratch my nails up and down his back. I'm filled with a swelling sense of contentment, and I feel thoroughly well-fucked.

Edward rolls off of me, doing away with the condom and then moving us both to our sides facing each other. He pushes my hair off my face, studying me.

"I'm sorry I finished before—" he begins, but I cut him off with a kiss.

"Don't be. It isn't you…I don't…well, I never do," I explain, and I feel the embarrassment flame my cheeks.

His brow furrows, and he props himself up on his elbow as he stares at me. "What do you mean, 'you never do'?"

I sigh deeply and stare at the ceiling. "I mean that I never orgasm. It's not a big deal. I don't mind."

He's absolutely incredulous. "You never have? _Not a big deal_? Are you kidding me, Bella? That's a huge deal!"

I pull the covers around me. "No, it's really not, Edward," I insist, and I'm suddenly really uncomfortable.

"What about when you masturbate?" he asks, point blank, like he's asking something completely routine and mundane. Like if I have seasonal allergies.

I pull the covers over my head. "Edward, can we please not discuss this? You're killing my afterglow," I whine. Seriously!

He pulls the covers away from my face. "Are you telling me that you're comfortable having sex with me, but not talking to me?"

"Good God!" I groan and put a pillow over my face. "No, I've never had one with _that_, either. Jeez, you're a pain in the ass!"

He pulls the pillow away and looks at me with concern. He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, and I sigh.

"Does this bother you?" I ask in a small voice. Because I'm broken? Dysfunctional?

"It should bother you, Bella. I just find it difficult to believe. Have you ever tried a vibrator?"

Just. Kill. Me. Now. _Please._

"No," I mutter through grit teeth. _Way to make a girl regret sleeping with you, Dr. Jackass._

"Then I don't think you're truly anorgasmic if you haven't tried everything," he says with a hint of a smile. He shifts closer, leaning over me. "Can I try something?" Fuck. Seductive honeyed voice is back. What is he up to? "Consider it a diagnostic test. In the interest of science," he coos, licking his lips.

And the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine again, working that Cullen voodoo. His lips travel to my jawline, then that spot right under my earlobe that drives me crazy. "After all, I am a doctor," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling my ear. "I'll stop any time you want me to."

I make no objections, and I just let myself melt into his kisses. While his mouth keeps mine busy, his hands start caressing my face…my scalp…my neck…collar bone…_mmmm_…down to my breasts, kneading…_my, my, my_…

And then he starts whispering to me between kisses. He tells me I'm beautiful. Tells me how long he's wanted me. That he's fantasized about me.

_Holy fuck_…

All the while, the lovely fingers continue to wander down my body, leaving a wake of goose bumps wherever they go. Meandering down my ribcage…circling my navel…lazily traveling southward, while anticipation of their final destination grows. I move a hand to the nape of his neck, weaving it into his hair, scratching my nails along his scalp, encouraging his ministrations.

His hand reaches my hip and caresses it, while slowly advancing to my ass…massaging the flesh, making me whimper as his fingers advance and retreat, closer and closer to my center with every calculated, torturous pass.

Just when I think he's finally going to touch me, he moves his hand down to my thigh, toying with the sensitive skin behind my knee and then hitches my leg over his hip. His hand then begins its advance up the back, stopping mere centimeters away from where I want him more than anything.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asks as his lips lavish my neck.

I'm practically writhing with need by this point, and all I can manage is a desperate sounding, "Please."

With that, he brings those luscious fingers right to the wet, engorged flesh that's begging for his attention, and he slides his fingers into me the same moment he slips his tongue into my mouth. He works both in tandem, in and out, and it may be the most erotic thing I've ever experienced.

He breaks the kiss though his fingers continue their steady pace, and he pulls back enough so he can look at me. "If you could only see how sexy you look, Bella," he croons. "Do you like my fingers? Do you like them fucking you?"

Hearing words like that come out of his mouth does something crazy and foreign to me, and though I didn't think it possible, I'm even more aroused. I then feel his fingers curl inside me, stroking and massaging with each pass until they hit something that sends an electrical current through my body, and it makes me jerk and gasp. His eyes darken, and he continues his assault to my insides, continuing to hit that spot and adding his thumb to my clit, working the two hot zones with vigor.

I'm trying to stifle the embarrassing moans that seem to emanate from somewhere else, but I can't. And then when his mouth isn't tantalizing some part of my body, he's murmuring naughty things again, telling me he can't wait to taste me…and how many different ways he wants fuck me…and I feel like I'm losing control of my body, maybe my mind…

I know I'm in unchartered territory now, as something down low feels like it's simmering just below the surface, ready to explode any second, and _oh my fucking GOD_ I want more, I need more, but I don't know what or how…but Edward does, because his magical fingers start thrusting harder and faster while he holds my gaze, watching me with such an intensity until this amazing feeling just erupts and spreads and consumes me, making me cry out because the pleasure is so intense it has to escape somewhere. Edward continues to work me through this tidal wave of euphoria, gently slowing it down until my flesh is so hypersensitive I grab his hand to stop it.

I'm only vaguely aware that Edward is holding me close, beaming down at me. My chest is heaving like I just ran a marathon, and I'm totally blissed out. I feel like I want to hand out cigars or something. Does Hallmark make cards for moments like this? I look into his shining eyes and throw my arms around him, kissing and squeezing him with all I'm worth, trying to convey all of my happiness and gratitude.

"That was just…I didn't think it was possible. I don't even know how to thank you for something like that," I finally say, but my words sound trivial and unworthy of such a huge moment.

"It was my pleasure, Bella," he says, and a devilish smirk spreads across his swollen lips. "Though, if you feel you need to thank me, I do have a few ideas."

With that, he leans over my body, and I can feel his revived erection press into my hip as he grabs another condom off my night table.

* * *

><p><strong>SM owns Twilight. I know it. You know it.<strong>

**A/N: **Did you really think they'd be able to hold out the whole 3 weeks? Would _you_? And do you think we can start calling him Dr. MagicFingers now?

Love and hugs to the wonderful Lemon H00rs, and to you amazing peeps who keep reading. Thank you so much.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am in desperate need of a cocktail. Or a Framboise. Mmmmm...


	21. Chapter 21

***Peeks through fingers* So sorry this took so long. Thanks for your patience : )**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

_Can't move. Why can't I move?_

It's not uncommon for me to wake up tangled up in my sheets like a burrito, but I quickly realize as the sleepy fog dissipates that there is something heavy and warm that's wrapped around me, and it's not my comforter.

_Edward._

At the realization that there is a naked Edward, in my bed, his body molding itself perfectly around mine, a blissful feeling of contentment fills me, and it makes me smile. I can hear that it's raining outside, and I wish I could just stay like this all day. I nuzzle into him and let his warmth seep into my bones.

"Good morning." His voice is scratchy and husky, and my heart picks up pace at the mere sound of it. Fingertips stroke and tickle the inside of my arm, drifting down my forearm and interlacing with my fingers.

"Good morning. Did you sleep okay?"

He chuckles softly and gives me a light squeeze. "Surprisingly well. You must have really worn me out."

Flashbacks of last night bombard me, and I'm instantly grateful that I am facing away from him as the familiar flush warms my cheeks. There is another flush down below as well, as the girlie bits are now fully awake—and now fully aware of what Edward is capable of. As if to entice me further, his lips press into my shoulder, earning a soft whimper from me.

That's when the second realization hits—there is a delicious, naked Edward in my bed, and not only does my bladder feel like it wants to explode, but I have disgusting swamp breath.

_Oh, the injustice of it all._

His lips are now traveling up the curve of my shoulder to my neck, and I'm having an internal war right now. The ovaries and the lady bits don't give a flying fuck about morning breath—but sadly, screaming bladder trumps both.

"Umm…Edward? I need a…human moment," I explain weakly as I try to wiggle out of his grasp. He groans in frustration, releasing his hold as I disengage myself and sit up, pulling the sheets with me. Edward tugs them back with an impish grin.

"Please, go ahead." His smile widens as I shrink back with the covers, the third realization registering that I'm still completely nude.

_Aw, jeez…_

My eyes dart around the room as I try to figure out a way to escape to the bathroom without having to do a bare-naked dash. Spotting his button-down shirt on the floor, I snatch it up with an internal sigh of relief. Edward watches me and shakes his head with amusement as I slip it on.

"Seriously, Bella? Don't you think we're past that by now?" His smirk is playful, and his eyes follow me as I escape to the bathroom with a scowl.

I wince when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My hair has gone Medusa, and I quickly contain the tangled riot in a hair band, smiling to myself as I consider how it got this way.

Just as I'm rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth, there's a gentle knock on the door. I open it to find Edward standing there, wearing nothing but his boxers and that marrow-melting, shmexy grin.

_My oh my…_

Good God, he's beautiful in all his bed-headed glory. I try so hard not to look him up and down, but those deltoids are just…and his lovely rectus abdominis melds into the crazy fuckhot "V" that disappears at his waistband…_I wonder what muscle that is_…And I'll bet he has amazing latissimi dorsi…

I'm hopeless. I take a deep breath and attempt to center myself as I hide my face in a towel, wiping my mouth of any evidence of toothpaste. Or drool.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush by any chance?" he asks with a knowing smirk. _Fuck. Totally busted._

"Actually, I do." I give him a spare from the medicine cabinet and leave to give him his turn in the bathroom, though his hand just happens to _accidentally _graze my ass as I squeeze past him.

Cheeky bastard.

Edward finds me in the kitchen drinking a bottle of cold water. "Would you like some breakfast?" I offer.

"Well, I would, but I had something else in mind right now." He gathers me up in his arms and kisses me soundly. "What time will Alice be back?"

He actually expects me to think straight when his lips are doing what they're doing to my neck? "She's rarely back before two…" Something akin to a squeak escapes me as they move to me clavicle. "…Or three…I can always text her to check…"

"Later." He lifts me up, and I wrap my arms and legs around him to hold on as he carries me back to my bedroom.

**XXX**

I lay with my head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it gradually subsides to a slow, calming rhythm. That and the soothing sensation of his fingers idly combing through my hair could easily lull me back to sleep. I pull the covers higher and burrow into him to enjoy his warmth, beginning to get a little chill as the thin sheen of sweat from our activity starts to evaporate.

There are definitely brain-altering chemicals that are released into the system with orgasms. Dangerous, addictive chemicals that make me want to know how soon before we can do it again. Chemicals that make me think about waking up like this every day. Chemicals that make me wonder the likelihood of our children having green eyes.

Good God, I want to just slap myself. This "OCD" thing just escalated to crack whore status.

I draw in a deep breath, attempting to clear my head of all the girlie, irrational stupidity so I can just enjoy the peaceful moment. I try to focus on how lovely it feels to just _be._ Warmth. Rain. Edward.

Edward's chest rises and falls as he sighs deeply with a hum, and the vibration against my cheek makes me smile. "This is nice," he murmurs.

My smile automatically widens. "I was just thinking the same thing."

He hums again, this time almost sounding like he's purring, and lazily runs his hand up and down my bare back.

I lift my head to look at him, and I don't think I've ever seen him so relaxed and…_content._ That makes me snicker to myself as I consider why…I guess three orgasms will do that to a person.

I should know.

**XXX**

"You look good in my shirt, Dr. Cullen." Edward takes a seat at my small kitchen table wearing my oversized UW hoodie. "Swiss or American?"

"That's because you look too cute in mine to take it back. And you really don't have to make breakfast, you know. Let me take you out for something."

Edward watches me pull ingredients from the fridge as I prepare to make him one of his beloved veggie omelets.

With egg whites, of course.

"But I enjoy cooking," I explain. It's cathartic for me, especially when I'm making something for someone who really enjoys my food, like Edward. It feels like giving them an edible hug.

Hmmm…an edible hug…

"Then make it Swiss." Arms envelope my waist, and lips caress my cheek. "Thank you."

Edward releases me and asks if he can help. I hand him a red pepper. "Are those knife skills of yours limited to the OR, or can you chop this?"

"Oh, I think I can manage." He smirks and takes the knife from me while I get to work on an onion. We work side by side quietly, and I realize he keeps watching me. I stop and look at him questioningly, but he just smiles and goes back to carefully dissecting his pepper.

"What?" I finally ask.

He smirks with a gleam in his eye. "I just like watching you. You're a master in the kitchen."

A proud smile flourishes my face. "That's exactly how I feel watching you in the OR."

He beams at me, and after a beat, he leans down and plants the sweetest kiss square on my lips. I lick them as he pulls away, my heart fluttering as I debate on scrapping breakfast altogether and pouncing him on the spot.

But Edward just returns his focus to his pepper, creating flawlessly symmetric, small pieces with slow, meticulous precision. I sigh and finish the rest of my veggie prep while he completes his perfect dice.

"You've got some mad knife skills there, Swan."

I snort to myself as I take the chopped vegetables and put them in a pan to sauté in butter. "Well, I should be. It took me enough ER visits to get this way."

Unfortunately, my "Master in the Kitchen" status is ruined by my first omelet endeavor. I've never actually made one before, other than seeing one prepared on a cooking show. So my first attempt looks more like a mangled vegetable and egg massacre with gory cheese ooze.

I keep that fugly little fiasco for myself.

Thankfully, my second one turns out a tad bit prettier.

"Thank you. I really enjoyed that," he says, helping me clean up once we finish. "But next time, I'm taking you out for breakfast. Someplace I can get some coffee."

_Next time_. I can't even describe how wonderful those words sound.

"Well then, next time I'll just have to make you dinner, instead."

I can tell by the look on his face that sounds pretty wonderful to him, too.

"So, what did you have planned today?" he asks as he settles onto my couch. I take a seat next him, and he grabs my legs, pulling them across his lap. I love how comfortable and natural he is with me.

"Nothing, really." I got almost everything accomplished yesterday during my nervous cleaning frenzy. "The only thing on my agenda is making a pot of sauce."

His eyes light up with interest. "Really? Can I help?"

I'm delighted that he wants to keep me company while I cook. The apartment feels too empty on weekends since Alice started spending most of them with Jasper. "Of course."

A stray, nagging thought I can't ignore pops into my head. "Edward?"

"Hmmm?" he replies.

"What made you change your mind? About waiting until I was finished with my rotation?" I'm thrilled that he did, of course; but he was so resolute in his convictions before. What happened?

The air seems so much heavier now. His face is pensive, and the hesitation before he answers makes me regret opening my mouth.

"I didn't want to waste any more time, Bella. Time I could be with you." His voice is soft, but green eyes are intense as he watches me. "So I arranged for you to take call with Emmett next week. I'm not working with you anymore."

_He didn't want to waste any more time he could be with me._ My heart feels like it swells a bit, but then the disappointment that I'm not taking call with him again deflates it a little.

Then the reminder of how finite our time together really is hits home, causing an unpleasant ache to billow in my chest.

My erratic emotions must be written all over my face because Edward cups my cheek and kisses me softly. Apologetically.

This man is my undoing. The ovaries and I are a swooning puddle of incoherent mush yet again.

At that moment, I resolve not to waste any of the time I have with him, either. Slipping fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, I pull him back to my lips, letting them convey everything I can't say.

Sweet, tender kisses somehow turn feverish and demanding, and next thing I know I'm straddling him the way I'd imagined doing so many times in the residents' lounge all those nights on call. He plants his hands firmly on my backside, deliciously grinding into me with a low moan.

_Good God_, _what that sound does to me._

I can feel his hard length pressed into my center, and I rock back and forth, pushing into the pleasure. His fingertips dig into my hips, and he tilts his pelvis upward, increasing the friction and spurring me onward.

Edward pulls back, gasping. "Bella, we need to stop. You're killing me, and I don't have any more condoms."

I stare at him, blinking, fighting through a moment of indecision as I chew at my lip. Every cell in my body wants him desperately. "I'm on the pill," I confess, hoping I'm not being too presumptuous. "To regulate my periods. Not because I expected to have sex or anything…because I haven't had any in at least two years. So I know I'm, you know, safe—"

Thankfully Edward cuts off my inane blathering with a heated kiss. "Thank fucking God," he rasps, his eyes dark and feral. "I've been tested. I'm safe, too."

He returns his mouth to mine, and I sigh as his tongue slides back into my mouth and his hands roam under my shirt, up and down my body.

A hand slips between my thighs, pushing panties to the side, and my abdomen clenches in anticipation of what his skilled fingers can do.

Then one slips inside me, slowly, taunting, until my eyes are begging him for more. And he gives more, adding a second finger and his thumb as another hand snakes up my shirt and captures my breast. He watches me with lust-clouded eyes as I breathlessly writhe against him until I'm clenching around his fingers in agonizing pleasure, wondering how anything could possibly feel this incredible.

I lift my head as I come back down from my high, and I want to feel him inside me, without barriers. _Now._ I help him undress and drop my underwear before I climb back onto his lap. I need to be closer. I need to return the pleasure he gave me. I need to watch him lose that veil of control.

Nothing compares to that gratifying sensation of filling and stretching as I sink down onto him, or the unbridled pleasure on his face and his hushed expletives as my flesh envelopes his.

I want to start moving, but he holds me steady. "God, too good…just…" he pleads softly and kisses me gently, leaning his forehead against mine as our bodies meld together. His hands move up my back and under my shirt.

"I want to see you." He lifts the hem to remove it, but I stop him. I need to keep it on…It just feels too vulnerable to be completely bare right now, in broad daylight, in the middle of my living room. No covers—or body—to shield me.

"Sorry," I whisper, unable to explain and hoping he understands.

He sighs, eyes questioning but yielding. His hands drift down to my legs, dragging along the skin up my thighs and finally—thankfully—pressing his fingers into my hips, and we start to move.

Good God, how I love this…He does so much more than make me physically feel good. The way he kisses me and caresses my flesh makes me feel like I'm something precious. The way he watches me makes me feel like I'm the sexiest woman in the world.

I never knew sex could actually be like this.

His grip tightens on my hips as he moves them faster and harder, and the way his brows knit in concentration tells me he's close. That look alone makes my insides tighten and stomach flutter. He's positively breathtaking when he finally lets his climax wash through him, and I'm filled with such a sense of satisfaction as I feel him pulsing inside me with his release. He holds me tightly, his forehead resting on my shoulder as our breathing calms to a quiet rhythm.

"Damn, I really need a shower now." He chuckles as he slumps into the couch, ruffling his hand through his hair with a lazy grin. "Care to join me?"

At first the prospect of being in a small confined space with a wet and naked Edward sounds positively tantalizing, until it dawns on me that I'd have to be completely naked, too. And my bathroom is really, really bright. Every single body flaw would be on glaring display.

Edward frowns. "What's the matter?"

My brain scrambles for an excuse that sounds plausible.

_Anything._

"I…ummm..." Nope. I got nothing.

"Bella," he murmurs, but his voice is firm. "Why on earth are you so shy around me?"

My eyes widen as I look at him, and my mouth goes dry. "No, it's just that my shower is really small. And you're a big guy." _Shit…that sounded bad_… "I mean, you're really tall, and it would be pretty cramped."

"Don't care. I saw it. We'll both fit."

_Easy for you to say, Dr. Adonis._

I swallow thickly, my heart nervously picking up speed. I'm about to open my mouth with another lame protest, but he lifts my chin and kisses me. "Come on. I'll be a complete gentleman. I promise."

That's even worse.

I chew at my lip as my eyes dart around the room. "Well, umm…I have to…you know, clean up a little bit first, so if you want to go ahead first and I'll join you in a few minutes…"

"I'll be happy to help you clean up." His expression is determined, and the next thing I know, he's lifting and hoisting me over his shoulder like a graceless sack of potatoes, and I have an up close and personal view of his very shapely—and very bare—ass.

"What the fuck is with you and the caveman crap?" I screech. "This is not funny, Edward! Put. Me. Down. _Now_!"

"This modesty thing is cute, but it's got to end." He lumbers into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

"You're insane, you know that? Is this some strange phobia or something? Can't shower alone in strange places?"

He drops me to the floor with a thud and grins at me, licking his lips. He pulls me close and kisses me. "I'm just an average guy who wants to enjoy as much naked time with a beautiful girl as I can. Is that so wrong?"

I roll my eyes. "There's nothing average about you," I mutter.

"And there's nothing average about you." He lifts the hem of my shirt, his eyes softening, seeking my consent. With a long sigh of defeat, I let him peel it away and quickly duck into the shower.

This should be hot. I've read more sexy, erotic shower scenes than I can count, but there's nothing sexy about the way I feel right now. I just feel nervous. Naked. Exposed.

Edward steps in and moves under the showerhead with me. He kisses me softly on the forehead. "Just trust me, okay?"

I nod tensely and keep his body close, using it to shield my own. I let the hot water drench and soothe my skin, trying to let it wash away my irrational anxiety. _There's nothing he hasn't already seen_, I tell myself. _It's just skin. _

_Try to be an average girl who wants to enjoy as much naked time with a beautiful man as she can._

He gently pulls away my hairband and uses his fingers to comb through the tangles, then tilts my head under the spray to saturate my hair. I pick up my shampoo, and he takes it from me with a gentle smile.

Edward pours a large dollop of it into his hand and proceeds to wash my hair, his strong fingers massaging my scalp as he works up a thick lather. It feels…_nice_. Very, very nice, actually. I let my eyes close and take a deep breath, focusing on the soothing sensation and trying to ignore my self-consciousness.

He rinses my hair while carefully sweeping the sudsy water away from my eyes, and once he's satisfied, he moves on to washing my body with my pouf. Aside from exploiting a few ticklish areas he'd discover along the way, Edward wasn't kidding when he said he'd be a complete gentleman. He's respectful and almost nurturing as he works the soap over my body, giving reassuring smiles and soft kisses, making me feel cared for and putting me at ease.

I've never had my back washed before. It's absolutely wonderful and feels downright luxurious.

By the time he finishes, I'm relaxed, refreshed and looking forward to my turn to take care of him.

I take my time shampooing his thick hair, returning the scalp massage and amusing myself by shaping it into a sudsy Mohawk before he chastises me and runs his hands through it, ruining my handiwork.

When I take my turn lathering up his body, I try to be as respectful as he was, avoiding ogling at him the way I'd really like to. But when I turn him around to wash his back, I make the most of the opportunity, admiring his broad shoulders and defined back musculature, enjoying the way they feel as my slippery hands glide over them.

I was right. His lattisimi are sigh-worthy.

We exit the shower into the foggy, steam-filled bathroom and wrap up in towels. He buries his nose in the crook of my neck. "God, you smell good," he says, breathing me in as I hum with contentment. "So, tell me. Was that so terrible?"

"Only the perfect gentleman part," I tease with a huff of mock irritation. Truthfully I'm thankful, since I don't know if my body could handle anything more at this point. It's going to be difficult not walking like a bowlegged cowboy for the next day or two.

He pulls back to look down at me with a frisky smirk. He looks positively edible, his green eyes sparkling with mischief, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower, and unruly damp hair shooting in every which direction. "Oh, really? I can make up for it if you like." He grabs my ass and gives it a squeeze, and I give him a playful shove in return.

"And then I'll need to shower again."

He kisses my neck. "I fail to see the problem."

I break away from him with a chuckle. "My lady parts need a rest. Now go get dressed and meet me in the kitchen."

**XXX**

Edward spends the afternoon helping me in the kitchen and watching me cook with keen fascination. Conversation is easy flowing and always light; we discuss everything and nothing, carefully avoiding any heavy topics.

Like the future.

I send him off with a plastic container filled with my fresh batch of sauce, and as we say our goodbyes, I'm cursing myself that I'm already missing him. I've enjoyed this magical little bubble we've been in for the past day, and letting him leave feels like I'm crashing after a sugar buzz.

"Any chance I can see you Wednesday night?" he asks, twirling a strand of my loose hair around his finger.

As if I'd actually say no? "I'd like that."

He brings his lips back to mine, kissing me sweetly before slowly pulling away with a satisfied grin, his fingertips lingering as if reluctant to release me.

I close the door behind him, resisting the urge to be a total dork and watch him walk to his car like a lovesick teenager. I return to my bedroom and flop myself onto my unmade bed, burying my face into his pillow, breathing in the faint hint of his scent.

I'd had everything all figured out. After graduation, I'd been looking forward to going back home to my family. My friends. My dream job.

Now, thanks to swoony Dr. MagicFingers, I wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>SM owns all.<strong>

A/N:

Thanks as always to Prettyflour, NKubie, and mc101180. You are the bestest, lovies.

All of my love to Pennyloafer and Beccagold. And to brand new Baby Cashew!

And hugs to you wonderful peeps I've had the luck to get to know out there.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks as always to Prettyflour, NKubie, mcc101180, Beccagold and Pennyloafer. I'd be so lost without you guys!**

**And a big, mushy, heartfelt thanks to you wonderful peeps for sticking with me. I wish I could bake you all brownies.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

"Honey, I'm home!"

Alice's loud, familiar greeting jolts me awake, completely disoriented of day and time. I quickly look for my alarm clock and see that it's a little after four. I've been asleep for almost two hours.

Alice waits in the living room on the couch with a pint of ice cream. She hands me a spoon and watches me expectantly.

I take a scoopful and let the creamy goodness slowly melt on my tongue, knowing Alice is practically crawling out of her skin with anticipation. I reach over for another spoonful, and she pulls the ice cream away with a glare.

"Damn it, Bella! First you ignore my text, and now you're playing coy with me?"

I know for certain that I never heard any message alert. "What text?"

"The one I sent asking when it was safe to come home."

Aw fuck, I feel like a shit. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear my cell."

Her lips furl into a wicked grin. "I just figured you were too busy to check it."

I bite my lip as a guilty smile takes over my face. I'm so pathetically transparent it's ridiculous.

"I demand details, woman! Don't make me beat it out of you—even though I'm pretty sure you'd enjoy that."

"Oh, I love when you get all Domme on me." I raise my eyebrows and lick my lips, making her swat me with a throw pillow.

"You're killing me here! How did everything go?"

Tucking my legs underneath my body to get more comfortable, I go ahead and tell her the made-for-television version of what had to be my best date ever.

"Girl, you got it _bad._" Alice giggles. "You are totally cock-whipped."

"Seriously, Alice? Ew." _Now that's a nasty visual_. I make a sour face and roll my eyes as I snatch the ice cream away from her.

"So what time did he leave?" she asks, her voice dripping with insinuation.

"Around two o'clock…today," I confess with hot cheeks giving away all. "We just hung out and cooked for a while."

She nods along. "And fucked like rabbits, I'm sure."

I can't stop the grin and the heat that overtakes my face. "And fucked like rabbits."

Alice stomps her feet and lets out a squeal. "I knew it! It's about fucking time, damnit! Tell me—are those long fingers of his any indication of—"

"_Alice_!" I hiss, my eyes wide. "Not going there!"

_Even though they most certainly are._

Alice slumps back into the couch, muttering under her breath. All I catch is "tight-ass" and "no fun."

I stand up and head for the kitchen. "Better shut up or I won't let you have any brownies," I call over my shoulder and watch with amusement as she whips her head around.

"Brownies? With chocolate chips?"

I snort. Alice is so easy. "As if there's any other kind."

"Fine. I'll leave your lame prude ass alone if you let me lick the bowl."

**XXX**

Alice helps me clean up the dishes as we wait for the pan of chocolate sin to bake. I figured it would be nice to bring some in to the hospital tomorrow. Edward would be thrilled, and I was positive Emmett and Jasper wouldn't mind, either.

"What are you and Edward planning to do once you graduate?" Alice side-eyes me curiously as she washes her hands.

I sigh deeply and chew at my lip, knowing she's tapped into something that's been gnawing at me for a while now. "I don't know. We haven't discussed it."

Her hazel eyes widen and stare at me in disbelief. "Why the hell not?"

My hands start to tremble a bit as my discomfort with the topic increases. "It hasn't come up." I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset about that, but it's been poking at my insecurities.

"What exactly are you waiting for, Bella? It's kind of important, don't you think?"

We sit down at the kitchen table, and I'm not really sure what to say. "He knows I'm moving back to Forks." The last time he brought up the issue was when I found him in my apartment the morning after the Long Island iced tea debacle.

Alice nods but her gaze is scrutinizing. She waits for me to elaborate, but I don't.

I don't even feel like thinking about this right now, let alone discussing it.

"Do you still _want _to move back home after graduation? Have you even considered the possibility of…oh, I don't know…staying in New York, perhaps? With me? And your favorite bagel place? And…wait…there might be another good reason…I'm sure if I think about it for a second it will come to me…"

_Oh, Alice_.

"Oh, that's right! Silly me. We've already had _two_ dates. I should totally be rearranging my life plans and picking out china patterns." I smack myself lightly upside the head for emphasis before giving her a sarcastic eye-roll.

"You mean to tell me the thought hasn't even crossed your mind after you just spent the last twenty minutes gushing at me about Dr. Swoonfest?"

I wrinkle my nose and grimace at her. "I was not gushing," I mutter under my breath. "And it just feels like it's a little presumptuous for me to start thinking along those lines. We barely started dating!"

"Seriously, Bella? You've spent more time with that man in the last month than you've spent with me. And you've probably spent twice that amount of time thinking about him." She casts a pointed glare, daring me to deny it.

I can't.

"You cook for him. He takes you out for breakfast after almost every call. And don't think I haven't caught you eye-fucking each other every time we go out to lunch. Are you going to tell me you still think this is some kind of temporary fling? Are you that delusional, or are you just blind?"

My mouth gapes like a gasping fish as I try to process her words and form a coherent response to her unexpected rant.

"What am I supposed to think, Alice? He's known all along that I was planning to go back home, and he's been very careful to avoid talking about the future. He's never once broached the subject of what will happen once I graduate, and I'm not going to be the one to bring it up." I scowl as my emotions swirl in a state of chaos. "And weren't you the one with the whole 'carpe diem' and 'not everything has to be 'til death do we part' speech?"

She lets out an exasperated huff. "Since when do you listen to me?"

"I know! I fucked up!" A smile pulls at my lips, and I'm grateful for the break in the heaviness.

Alice shakes her head at me. "Bella, you're obviously crazy about him. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he could feel the same way? That maybe he would want _you _to bring up the subject since you're the one who plans to leave? Don't fuck up what could be a good thing by making stupid assumptions. You have to talk to him about this."

She's right. I know she's right. But I also know I'm not ready to discuss this yet. "If he doesn't bring it up, I will. After this rotation is over."

Alice beams at me. "I would be so happy if you stayed, Bella! You know, it wouldn't hurt to start sending out some applications here in New York. Just to keep all of your options open."

I stare at her as I actually consider it for a moment. Could I even picture living in New York for the long term?

"I don't know…" I start thinking out loud as I sort it all out in my head. "I have so many ties back home. And New York is an expensive place to live when I'm starting out with as much debt as I'll have from all my school loans. And who knows how long it would take me to even find a job here?" The more I say, the more real it becomes, and the more overwhelmed I feel.

"Just take some time and think about it. There are always ER positions available to new grads. I've already applied for a few. And living in New York wouldn't be too expensive if you had a _roommate _to share expenses with, right?"

Good God, I just love Alice to pieces. How could I not?

"Aw, thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I convey my gratitude in my smile because I could just hug her right now, but my heart still feels heavy. I couldn't entertain the possibility of staying here unless Edward made it clear he even wanted me to.

Better yet, until he made it clear what he wanted from me.

I'd need to feel like there was a possibility for more, and thinking along those lines brought out a sense of longing I wasn't comfortable with. It was way too soon to start feeling this way, wasn't it?

Luckily, the oven buzzer and the inviting aroma of hot brownies save me from myself.

Chocolate really can cure anything.

Alice and I relax on the couch and watch some television after we indulge in a naughty brownie and ice cream dinner. It's barely after 8:00 p.m. and I can't keep my eyes open.

I stand up and roll my stiff neck, my body feeling ridiculously heavy. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to call it a night. I'm exhausted."

Alice giggles. "The good doctor wore you out, huh?"

I just smile and raise an eyebrow. "Oh, you have no idea."

I get ready for bed but decide to check in with my parents first, and I'm dying to get in touch with Angela. Our conflicting schedules make it tough to talk during the week other than a quick text here and there, but we usually catch up on the weekends. I'd told her about Edward, and so much has changed since the last time we spoke.

It's times like this that I miss her most.

**XXX**

It seems so surreal that this is the last week of my Ob/Gyn rotation. It's even more surreal that what I'd expected to be the worst clinical ended up being the best experience by far.

In more ways than I could have possibly imagined.

The clinic is crazy on Monday, just like it was last week. I finish the morning session a little late but don't care because I'm beside myself with excitement to see Edward at lunch. As I'm walking over to the lounge to meet everyone, I feel my phone vibrate with a text.

**Meet me at the hospital entrance.**

It's from Edward, and I get that familiar nervous flutter in my belly.

I feel like I can't get there fast enough, and I'm thrilled and surprised to see that he's alone. He greets me with that irresistible smirk that makes me want to lick it off his face.

And keep going.

Of course, that visual is probably making me blush like the guilty, dirty-minded whore that I am, but I can't begin to care.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Eating lunch. Somewhere else."

I bite my lip as my smile threatens to reach goofy proportions.

Even though we don't have a lot of time and just get pizza across the street, I'm grateful to have _any_ time alone with him I can. It makes going back to Cooch Clinic a tad bit easier after getting a little Edward fix.

**XXX**

Alice and Edward arrive at the residents' lounge as I'm getting ready to leave.

Okay, so maybe I _was_ taking a little longer than usual to get ready today.

I know my face lights up when I see him, and Alice just rolls her eyes and excuses herself to use the ladies room.

I really do love Alice.

"So, umm…I made sure Alice brought dinner for you, too. I hope you don't mind spaghetti and meatballs, since you have sauce at home and all…"

Edward smiles broadly as his eyes sweep across my face. "It's perfect. Thank you."

I know there's something else I wanted to say, but for the life of me, I can't form a single cohesive thought when he looks at me the way he is right now. All I can think of is how soft his lips are and how much I want to kiss them.

I swear it's like those eyes of his mess with my brain waves or something.

The sound of the bathroom door closing loudly startles me back to reality, and I take an awkward step back as Alice approaches.

"Oh, and I brought these." I pull the container of brownies out of my bag and hand it to him. When he realizes what it is, his face glows with delight.

Edward definitely has a sweet tooth.

He licks his lips and leans close as he whispers, "You know I'm going to have to work these off, don't you?"

_Oh, for the love of_…I swallow thickly as my eyes dart quickly at Alice, who's making obnoxious kissy-faces behind Edward's back.

"Then I'm going to have to bake more often," I answer softly, discretely flipping Alice the bird.

**XXX**

Three more days.

Three more days and I'm finished with Ob/Gyn for good. Two more days of Cooch Clinic, since I'll be post call tomorrow, and Friday we'll be back at school for exams.

I pack up for my last night on call—with Emmett. I have a new theory that men are just like stray cats. Feed them once, and be prepared that they will keep coming back expecting more. I suspected he'd have a pretty big appetite, so I made a large batch of stuffed shells with the fresh sauce I had on hand.

I make sure I have a little extra time before rounds so I can stop at Starbucks for one of those scones I'm now addicted to. My pockets are also well-stocked with chocolates. The day always goes smoother with a happy stomach.

**XXX**

Emmett gets to the lounge a half hour after I do, apologizing that he was tied up in a delivery. He greets me with his infectious, boyish grin. "So what's for dinner, B?" he asks excitedly and claps his hands together, rubbing them together in anticipation.

I chuckle to myself as I heat up our food, and I watch with delight and amazement as he literally inhales a portion that could generously feed two people. I wonder if he even chews or just swallows each one whole.

When I bring out brownies for dessert, he proposes. You just gotta love Emmett.

"You know, I never asked if you were going to do a fellowship after this. Are you?" I ask him. It's still strange to me picturing Emmett as an Ob/Gyn. With his size and build, I guess I envision him more as an orthopedist.

Or a football player.

Truth be told, the first time I saw him positioned between a woman's legs for a delivery, when he caught the baby, I half expected to hear him start calling out numbers followed by a loud "Hut! Hut! Hike!"

_How's that for a visual._

"Nope. I'll be joining a large private practice after graduation."

"In New York?"

"In Brooklyn." He's quiet for a moment, and he tilts his head slightly. I can practically see the gears cranking inside his skull. "What about you? What are you doing after graduation?"

I look down at my feet as I debate how to answer. I know he's close to Edward, and I wonder how much he knows. It's one thing discussing this with Alice, but Emmett? "I'm not sure yet," I say, since it's the truth.

"Well, you're lucky. There seems to be a lot of opportunities for PAs out there. Smart gal like you should have a lot of options."

I wonder how true that actually is and try not to read too much into his words. "I hope you're right."

Emmett leans back in his chair, clasping his large hands behind his head. "So, you and the E-Man, huh?"

I shift uncomfortably and shrug. I thought guys don't talk about this kind of stuff?

He smirks. "Well, I think it's a good thing. My boy seems a lot happier lately now that he's getting…" My eyes widen. _He wouldn't!_ His mischievous grin broadens, and his dimples pop as he watches me blush and squirm. "…fed well."

_Good God! Is there a "Fuck with me" sign on my forehead or something?_

He chuckles, looking thoroughly tickled with himself as I glare at him. "What? You're a really good cook!"

I smile and shake my head as I snort softly to myself. "Thanks, Dr. Ken. Which reminds me, how's Barbie?"

He lets out deep, hearty belly laugh. There's something so infectiously warm about Emmett. He's absolutely adorable. "I still can't believe you called her that to her face!"

I can feel the blood drain from mine as my brain scrambles in a panic, trying to recall when I would have ever done something that stupid. He's really enjoying my discomfort. "Do you even remember? Hell, I'm sure there's a lot you don't remember that night."

Oh, _that_ night.

"That night is added to the list of things you are not allowed to tease me about," I warn, giving as menacing a look as I can muster. "Don't be fooled by my size. I'll mess you up."

"I bet you would. I'm shaking in my shoes." He patronizes me with a mock look of terror. "That reminds me—we're planning to go out again this Friday night. You should meet us there. Bring Jasper and Alice, too. We'll celebrate the end of your rotation."

"Thanks. That sounds like fun." I'll be sure to stick to beer this time. I think I've given Emmett enough material for this lifetime.

The night is relatively slow. We have one routine delivery that turns out to be one of the patients I'd seen in Prenatal Clinic. He lets me do it completely by myself from start to finish. It's thrilling and wonderful, but bittersweet knowing it will likely be the last baby I ever deliver.

Luckily, this will also be my last night dealing with Queens General's finest bedding as well.

**XXX**

When Alice, Jasper and I take our seats for Wednesday morning Grand Rounds, Edward and Emmett are nowhere to be found. I feel pathetic how my eyes keep stalking the entrances waiting for him. My heart rate reacts the second I catch a glimpse of his unmistakable head of hair, and his eyes find mine. I watch over my shoulder as he signs in, but instead of taking a seat, he steps back out.

I'm confused and momentarily hurt, and I actually wonder if he's avoiding me.

As I berate myself for being such a stupid, dramatic girl, my phone vibrates with a message.

**In the call room waiting for you.**

_Holy fuck-against-a-call-room-door!_

_Please!_

I whisper to Alice that I'll be back and give her a look that tells her not to bother asking any questions. I slip out quietly as the lights dim, and I head to the call room, silly butterflies in my stomach going haywire as I speculate what Edward is up to.

I enter the residents' lounge and find Edward sitting back on the couch with a canary-eating grin.

I fold my arms as I try to contain the overwhelming urge to straddle him. "Can I help you with something?"

_Please, please, please say yes._

He stands and walks toward me, causing my heart to flounder and flip like a fish out of water. It seems like forever until his body makes contact with mine, and I can feel myself melt into him as he pulls me close, smiling down at me.

"Hey," I barely choke out.

"Hey," he replies, leaning in and brushing my lips softly for a series of sweet—and definitely restrained—kisses.

_Fuck._

Something tells me I'm not getting any call-room action today. Not that I should be surprised or anything.

"Do I still get to see you tonight?" he murmurs, fingers caressing my lower back.

"I certainly hope so." So do the ovaries, as they remind me about some brownies he mentioned having to work off. "Want to come over for dinner?"

"Like I'd ever say no to that?"

I smile as he dips down and runs his nose along my cheek before lightly kissing my temple. "As much as it kills me to say, we have to get back to Grand Rounds."

I pout as he pulls away. But as we make our way back to the conference room, I take comfort and pleasure in the knowledge that I can make him pay for teasing me later.

And I'm really, _really_ looking forward to it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Remember, SM owns Twilight. Not me.****

**A few fic recs:**

**A Scarlet Night by Prettyflour**

**In the Woods by Oprah Winfrey**

**Head over Feet by**** iambeagle**

**See you soon : )**


	23. Chapter 23

**Obligatory disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

**EPOV**

"You have perfect timing. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes or so."

Bella looks beautiful. Her hair is down, the way I like it, and the soft deep-blue sweater and jeans she's wearing subtly flaunt her curves. I probably shouldn't tell her that if my timing was really perfect, I would have gotten here early enough for a pre-dinner appetizer. I haven't been able to get her out of my mind since I saw her this morning.

_Fucking Long Island Expressway traffic._

Bella greets me with a warm smile and thanks me graciously as I hand her a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a bakery box.

"Ooh, what's in the box?" she asks, eying it curiously.

"Cupcakes from Crumbs Bake Shop. Have you heard of it?" There's one near the hospital, and I had a feeling that this would make Bella's sweet tooth pretty happy.

Her face lights up with delight. "No, but I love cupcakes. I'll have to make sure I save some room for them."

A delicious, savory aroma welcomes me, and my eyes are drawn to the way her jeans showcase her magnificent rear view as I follow her through the kitchen. She hands me the wine bottle and a corkscrew and places two glasses on the counter before turning her attention to a salad she's preparing.

"So, what smells so good?" I ask, pouring the wine and taking a small sip. I lean on the counter and watch her slice tomatoes into wedges.

"Chicken potpie." She instantly grins at the compliment. I love it. And I love knowing how much she enjoys feeding me, even if I've had to kill myself at the gym because of it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, everything is pretty much ready to go. Just have a seat."

Instead, I move behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. "I prefer staying right here. The view is better."

Her body vibrates against mine as she giggles softly. "Haven't you learned that distracting a girl with a sharp object in her hands may not be the best idea?"

I take the knife out of her hands, and she turns in my arms, lifting to her tiptoes to give me a light, barely-there kiss. I press into her and bury my nose in her neck, breathing in her subtle, fresh scent. I can't get enough of how good she always smells. It's inviting. Comforting. "I take it Alice isn't home?"

She nuzzles into me and strokes the hair at the nape of my neck, making my eyes drift close at the soothing sensation of her light touch. "Nope. She's staying at Jasper's tonight."

_God, do I love Alice right now._

I sweep her silky hair away from her neck and taste her skin, my hands drifting down her sides and tracing her soft curves. She sighs softly before putting her hands on my chest and pushing gently.

"If you keep that up, dinner is going to burn," she says softly, her expressive brown eyes peering up through dense, long lashes, and I want to tell her that if she keeps looking at me like that, dinner isn't going to happen at all. But I can't do that to her, not when I know she's put forth so much effort to make me a home-cooked meal. I wonder if she even realizes how much I appreciate it. I reluctantly release her and back away, letting her finish.

Dinner, as usual, is delicious, and she beams happily when I tell her so. I can't even describe how much I enjoy Bella's cooking. It's comfort food in the purest sense; satisfies and fills the soul. Makes you feel good_. Cared for_.

The same way Bella does.

"You know, for someone who enjoys cooking so much, I'm surprised you didn't decide to become a chef."

She smiles and shrugs, looking down at her plate as she pushes her food around with her fork. "I never even considered it. I just always knew I wanted to go into medicine. Besides, I don't think I'd enjoy this as much if it was something I had to do for a living, you know?"

Conversation flows easily, and the silence is comfortable, never awkward. The way it's supposed to be.

Unlike my other casual attempts at dating during my residency, being with Bella is almost as natural as breathing. I not only enjoy being with her, but I really like how she makes me feel. Like who I am when I'm with her.

I was already missing having her company on call nights. Spending time with her had made the long nights go faster; it had become something I grew accustomed to and actually looked forward to. Craved, even. Bella filled a void I never knew was even there.

So more and more, I found myself thinking about how much I would miss her if she went back home. But we hadn't been together long, and I didn't want to spook her by pushing too soon. Yet somehow, I had to let her know I wanted to continue a relationship…even if she was going to return to Forks.

I had family there. I could figure out a way to make it work. _I wanted to make it work._

"Sometimes I swear you're trying to fatten me up, woman," I tease as I help her clear the dishes. She just quirks an eyebrow at me and eyes me up and down.

"Hmm…you could use a little meat on your bones," she quips with a sly little smirk. "What is it that they say? 'More cushion for the pushin'?" She giggles and takes the last sip of her second glass of wine. Bella had become increasingly playful and flirtatious as she continued to drink, just like the time we were at the bar. Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, and my eyes are drawn to her tongue as it pokes out to lick the residue off her lips. Her slightly altered inhibitions are simultaneously adorable and sexy as fuck.

I gather her in my arms, chuckling softly as she grins up at me lazily with hooded eyes. "I think you may be a little drunk," I murmur in her ear before dropping a light kiss just underneath it.

Warm air brushes my skin as she sighs. "Nah…Well, maybe just a _teeny_ bit buzzed." She brings her mouth to mine, gently biting my lower lip before dragging her lips across my jaw. "Can I tell you something?"

"Mmm?" I answer with half-hearted interest, my attention focusing elsewhere as she slips her hand under my shirt, her fingernails ever-so-softly grazing my back.

"Maybe it's just me, but you look positively edible," she whispers before returning her lips to mine, kissing me with earnest and pressing her soft body into mine. I can taste the wine mingling with her unique, sweet flavor. "And if you're so worried about your girlish figure, I'm more than happy to help you work those calories off. You owe me big time after teasing me in the call room today."

_Fuck, yes._

The way she's pushing into my hard-on is making me insane. A low hum rumbles in my chest, and my hands drift down, cupping her ass. "Can I tell you something?"

"Mmmhm," she replies, the sound making her lips vibrate against my throat as she sprinkles kisses around my neck.

"You're not drinking with anyone but me anymore."

She pulls back a bit and quirks that eyebrow again with a snort. "Oh, really now? Possessive much?"

_You got that fucking right._

I answer by commandeering her mouth and gently pushing her backward into the wall. She whimpers as she reaches down and starts undoing my jeans.

"Bella—" I begin, but she cuts me off abruptly with a forceful kiss.

"Right here," she says breathlessly, palming my cock and crashing her lips back into mine, escalating my lust several octaves.

_I think I love this woman._

She doesn't have to tell me twice. I help her out of her jeans as fast as humanly possible and take her then and there.

**XXX**

Bella burrows into me as we lay spooning across her couch watching _Iron Chef._ The comfort of her body and the scent of her hair have me in a blissful haze of peaceful contentment.

"Oh, man…I forgot about your cupcakes," Bella says abruptly, turning her head to look at me. "Do you want me to get you one?"

The thought of anything more to eat right now isn't even remotely appetizing. "No, but go ahead if you want one."

She sighs deeply. "Nah. I'm too tired and too comfortable to get up."

I smile and kiss the top of her head, giving her a light squeeze. "Do you want me to leave so you can go to bed?" I ask. We both have to be at the hospital disgustingly early in the morning, and as much as I'm not ready to go yet, I don't want to keep her up.

"Well…"she begins as she turns her body to look at me. "You're more than welcome to stay if you want. That way, we could save the cupcakes for breakfast. I mean, not that you have to or anything, but whichever is easier..."

Bella's familiar and nervous ramblings have become part of her persona, and I find them oddly endearing. The idea of waking up next to her tomorrow sounds like a great way to start a long day on call. "Thanks. I'd love to."

Her face brightens, and I have to kiss her. As her soft lips mold so perfectly to mine, something twists in my gut as the nagging thought looming in the back of my brain pushes to the surface.

_Talk to her._

_Just do it already!_

I take a deep breath, focusing on her soulful eyes and solidifying my resolve. "Listen, there's something I want to put out there."

Concern knits her brow, and I gently smooth the creases with my fingers to reassure her. I've become practiced at reading Bella, especially since she rarely verbalizes what's running through her head, much to my frustration.

"I just want you to know that I'd like to continue seeing you. I'm not sure exactly how, but I'd really like to let things run their course and see where this goes."

_Fuck…was that too much? _

I watch tentatively for her reaction as she chews at her lip for a moment, letting out my breath as her lips curl into a radiant smile that makes me feel like a fucking king.

"I'd really like that, too," she answers, before kissing me sweetly. I feel almost weightless with relief and elation, and the only thing looming over me is optimism.

**XXX**

Friday night, Tara's is crowded with the usual eclectic mix of college students and hospital staff. Emmett and I order another pitcher of beer for the table while Rose, Bella, Jasper and Alice continue to play darts.

Bella was right—she _is_ pretty good at darts when she isn't inebriated out of her mind. We've beat both Alice and Jasper _and _Emmett and Rosalie. Not surprisingly, Alice may not be that good, but she's quite entertaining and talks more smack than Emmett.

The pool table had been occupied all night, so regrettably, I never got a chance to see Bella bent over it.

"So, things seem to be going pretty well with you and Bella," Emmett comments. Spending so much time around women has turned him into one.

I shrug nonchalantly, but a small grin slips. "Can't complain."

"Have you guys talked yet?"

I nod, taking the pitchers from the bartender while Emmett pays for this round.

"Hmm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He just shrugs. "Nothing. It's just that when I asked her what she was doing after graduation, she said she wasn't sure."

I stop short and look at him. She didn't tell him she was going back home? Why? Was she purposely being vague or was she actually considering other options?

I want to ask him what else Bella told him, but I spot everyone back at the table and decide it's definitely not something I want to get into with Emmett at the moment anyway.

I take a seat beside her at the table and seem to be walking in on something funny between Rose and Bella, because they are both giggling and Bella straightens up when she sees me.

I lean close to her ear. "Did I interrupt something?"

She just smiles innocently. "Of course not."

I don't even care what was going on. It's just nice seeing how well she blends in with my friends. Emmett obviously likes her, and even though Rose tends to be a bit reserved, Bella seems to have won her over as well.

"You want a chocolate?"

My mouth twitches into a smirk. "You don't leave home without it?"

She grins and shakes her head. "Nope. Chocolate and beer go together like Oreos and milk. Come to think of it, Oreos and beer go together pretty well, too."

"That sounds absolutely disgusting." She's so adorably absurd.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it." She reaches into her purse and takes out her familiar Hershey's minis.

I glance down at the dark chocolate bar she places in my hand. "Do you have any Krackel?"

Her head tilts to the side, brows knit together in confusion. I just shrug in response. "What? It's my favorite. I like the krispies."

Her mouth gapes a bit with surprise. "But you were always trying to finagle my dark chocolate! I thought _that_ was your favorite."

"No, it's your favorite. You just assumed it was mine."

Her cheeks flush, and I can tell she's getting flustered. "But—but I gave you a Krackel bar, and you didn't want it! You wanted my dark chocolate."

I just grin at her as she huffs with irritation. Yes, I'll admit it. It wouldn't have mattered what her favorite was. I would have wanted whatever she didn't want to give me. "I never said I didn't want it, either. I just wanted some of whatever you were having."

I know. I was a shit. But at the time, I'd seen an opportunity to ruffle her feathers and had to go with it—definitely immature, but effective nonetheless. Her feisty attitude had provoked something inside me that caused me to flirt like a fourth grader.

So I just shrug again with an impish grin, and she punches me in the arm. "You little punk!" she hisses at me with a chuckle, shaking her head.

My lips hover at her ear as I lean close, my fingers toying with her hair. "I think you're already aware that there's nothing little about me," I tease.

"You're obviously referring to your ego," she quips, pulling away and rolling her eyes. "You really are a jackass. That's it. No chocolate for you." She snatches the candy from me, unwrapping it and quickly tossing it in her mouth with a victorious grin.

**XXX**

We leave Tara's a little after midnight, and Bella accompanies me back to my apartment, located in a nice, small neighborhood of Queens.

"Well, this is me." I look around at the sparse modern furniture and beige walls, and it feels so cold and stark compared to the colorful, feminine touches in Bella's place.

I give her a quick tour, and her eyes glaze over wistfully as she checks out my modern, granite-top galley kitchen which has only been used to make coffee and microwave frozen dinners.

She leans against my counter and eyes me with a sexy smirk. "So, do you want to play chess or something?"

I chuckle softly with surprise, rubbing the back of my neck. "That sounds great, but I don't have a chess set."

She pretends to pout, stalking slowly toward me. "Pity."

My smile spreads as she stops in front of me, so close I can practically feel the heat radiating off her, and she peers up at me through her lashes as she playfully tugs at my shirt.

"But I do have cards, if you want to play Bridge or Hearts or something," I tease, dipping down to kiss her.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body into mine and deepening the kiss. "No good. I don't know how to play."

Slowly pulling her into my bedroom, I nip at her neck and palm her delectable ass. "I can teach you."

A strangled moan escapes her lips. "Fuck it. I don't have the attention span right now."

And talking is officially over.

I nudge her onto my bed and reach behind my back to pull off my shirt. She bites her lip as she sits at the edge, watching me undress.

"Take your clothes off, Bella. I can't do what I want to do to you with them on."

"And what exactly would that be?" she asks softly, trying to be coy but her eyes give away her desire.

Placing my hands on her thighs, I lean over and kiss her deeply. "You're gonna have to get naked to find out."

Her eyes widen and her pretty lips part as she gasps softly in response. She waits a moment before she realizes I'm not going to undress her. She draws in a deep breath through her nose as resolve washes over her face.

_That's right. I'm going to stand here and watch you. _

A lot of things surprise me about Bella, and her unexpected modesty is only the tip of the iceberg. I was completely _stunned_ to find out that she never had a single orgasm—more so than if she had told me she was a virgin. But now that I knew her on a more intimate level, it made sense. Her inexplicable inhibitions and uneasiness with her own body likely contributed to her difficulty in letting go.

I want to get her over that.

She needs to be comfortable with me and with her body. I was determined to make her realize how beautiful she really is.

Her eyes stay locked on mine as she pulls off her sweater, exposing a black bra that pushes the swells of her breasts upward, creating an inviting, curvaceous valley I want to bury my face into.

I lick my lips and watch as she stands and wiggles out of her jeans, revealing matching panties. So intense against creamy skin, and the little white polka dots are just icing on the fucking cake. I appraise the feminine curves of her form before she closes the space between us, pulling my body against hers and kissing me. She feels so warm. So soft.

I tangle my tongue with hers, burying my hands in her hair and angling her face, tasting and using my body to move her back so she hits the bed. The mattress creaks with the weight of our bodies as I lay her down.

_I can't wait to make her come. _

Something inside me loves the fact that I'm the only person who's ever been able to do that to her. I'm the only person who's ever seen how she flushes all the way down to her breasts and how fucking wild and beautiful she looks. No one else knows the rush of how it feels when her inner walls spasm and flutter around my fingers.

_I want so badly to be inside her when that happens. _

She arches her back to give me better access to remove the rest of her clothing. My eyes roam appreciatively, drinking in the luscious expanse of alabaster skin beneath me, pretty pink nipples erect and begging for attention I'm more than happy to give.

I can't let her be embarrassed or nervous. I just want her to enjoy and _feel_. And I need her to see how much I am going to love what I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing to her.

"You're beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

I tell her with my words.

I tell her with my eyes.

I tell her with my hands, teasing and caressing silky skin.

I tell her with my mouth, worshiping her body with my lips, tongue, and teeth as I work my way downward.

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><p><strong>AN *Dodges angry projectile objects***

**Yes, I know, I know. Sorry about the cockblock...but I thought you might prefer to see this continue in BPOV : ) And come on, he finally talked to her!**

**Thanks and lots of love to Prettyflour, NKubie, Pennyloafer, Beccagold, mc101180. And big hugs to the lovely Lemon H00rs and all of you for reading. You guys are better than Crumbs Bake Shop!**

**See you soon : )**


	24. Chapter 24

**Damn, people! Thank you so, so much for making ToB a Fic of the Week on The Lemonade Stand, and to lovely, shmexy Twilover76 for her shimmy-worthy review! I'm all verklempt!**

**So umm, where were we again? **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

_Oh God. OhGodohGodohGodohGod…_

My muscles tense the moment his mouth heads south of my navel.

I'm ridiculous. Absolutely, pathetically, neurotically ridiculous.

This gorgeous, sex-god of a man's incredible mouth is making a delicious course to where my body is screaming and begging for him.

I've had countless fantasies about him doing this.

The ovaries are wholeheartedly on board, literally _cheering_ him on and telling the brain to shut the fuck up.

There is no rational or physiological reason for me to be even remotely hesitant. I want this. So, so badly.

But…

_But what? _ Warm breath fans across my belly as his lips and fingertips continue to reverently caress my skin, fueling my desire and pulling me further and further away from my ludicrous self-doubt.

The reservation is still there, but evaporating rapidly. It's not that I have any _aversion_ in any way...quite the contrary. But the only person I'd ever allowed to get all up-close-and-personal in my lady business like that was the last person I want to be thinking about at this moment. And the act always seemed…well…_awkward_…for both of us. Since I never even got off on it anyway—which just made me feel even worse—it was easier to just avoid the deed altogether.

Up until now, I was never comfortable enough with anyone to try again.

But Edward…I know Edward well enough to know that he wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do.

I also know him well enough to know that everything he does do, he does really_, really_ well.

"Relax, Bella. I just want to make you feel good." Velvety, seductive words soothe while dark, lusty green eyes lock with mine, assuring me that he wants this. "Let me take care of you."

I nod weakly, and his lips return to my body, kissing and nipping at my left hip bone, gently sweeping his fingertips up and down the outside of my thigh. My heart hammers away and I feel like my entire body is electrified, so I try to calm myself by concentrating on the rhythm of my own labored breathing as he slowly, torturously continues his descent.

I'm practically panting at this point, and I bring my forearm over my eyes as he slowly parts my legs and settles between them.

"Bella, look at me." He coaxes me softly, brushing his thumbs along the insides of my thighs, just millimeters away from where the ache has become so intense I can feel the blood coursing through the aroused flesh with each beat of my heart. I take a deep, quivering breath before uncovering my face and bring my gaze to his.

The way he looks at me causes a twisting need deep in my belly that overrides the nervous flutter in my chest.

"I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to," he promises, bending my right knee, exposing me fully to him as he watches my reaction. "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes," I automatically rasp out, clutching at his sheets, practically crawling out of my own skin with nervous anticipation.

I gasp as he runs his fingers through my slick center, and I feel him spread me open as he places a tender kiss on the inside my thigh and exhales warm breath across my sensitive flesh. "Do you have any idea how much I'm dying to taste you?"

_Oh good God_…Does he have any idea what his words do to me? What _he_ does to me?

"Will you let me, Bella?"

I can't even breathe, let alone form words, so I just nod my head in frantic desperation.

A whimper escapes when I finally feel the heat of his mouth on my most intimate parts, and I'm so done for. All intelligible thought goes out the window.

He starts out so soft, so slow. His lips and tongue feel like they're learning me, testing and teasing like he has all the time in the world…gradually building intensity until all I'm aware of is the sensation and the sounds of my ragged breathing. Then he gently sucks my clit into his mouth, and instantaneously my back arches as I let out a strangled cry, causing him to hum loudly in response.

"Oh!"

The delicious vibration it causes kicks things up to a whole new level, and I can't control the way my hips want to levitate. I'm too far gone to be embarrassed about the porn-like mewling that practically reverberates through the room, which actually seems to spur him on even more.

_Lick. Suck. Flick. Hum._

_Fuck_…I feel like I'm going to spontaneously combust…It's like it's all too much but I need more. I'm close. So, so _so_ close, and my body is twisting and trembling, trying to get away from him and trying to get closer all at once.

"Please…please, please, please, please…" I don't know if I'm chanting it in my head or saying it out loud, and I don't even give a fuck.

But he knows. He always knows _exactly_ what I need.

That's when I feel his glorious fingers slip inside me, curving as he continues to work my clit with his mouth, and that's it.

Game over.

My body convulses with pleasure, mouth open in a silent scream, giving him all I have to give until I can't take anymore and he lets me come back down.

I'm heaving to catch my breath as he kisses my belly. "Damn, Bella," he mutters gruffly, and his voice brings me back with only one thing on my mind.

_I want him_.

I lunge for him, recklessly colliding my mouth into his and kissing him with all I have left in me, tasting his flavor mixed with what must be my own. And he's letting me, attacking my mouth and fisting my hair with equal fervor. I reach down to touch him, surprised to find him unbelievably hard and ready. I pull back enough to see his face, and he looks almost feral. Ravenous.

_Holycripes. I did that to him_.

I feel empowered. Brazen.

"I want you to fuck me." I know what his words do to me. I want to do the same to him.

I want to fuck hard and dirty. I want to completely unravel him the way he did to me.

I hear a low, impossibly sexy groan, and suddenly I'm pushed onto my back, his hands pinning mine at the sides of my head as I look into the eyes of a predator ready to go in for the kill.

"You want me to _fuck_ you, Bella?"

The way he repeats my words ignites my skin, and I greedily lift my hips to meet him as he aligns with my center, sliding across where I'm so ready for him. His eyes penetrate as they search mine, and with one swift thrust he buries himself inside me, the sheer force of it pushing out an unexpected cry at the suddenness of the intrusion. His gaze asks me if it's okay, if I'm okay.

It's so much more than okay. I'm like a junkie jonesing for that next fix.

_Show me what you've got. I want it. All of it. _

Out of nowhere, he pushes himself back so he's kneeling between my now open legs, grasping my hips and ass to keep himself inside.

"Put your feet against my shoulders." His voice is gritty. Commanding_. So fucking hot_. I do as he says, mentally thanking whoever invented Pilates.

He pushes into me slowly and deliberately as he lifts my lower half, angling upward with each thrust just so until I feel him hit _that spot_…_holyfuckingshit_…that spot that only his fingers usually find, and my eyes widen as I gasp with the pleasure.

He grins wickedly and begins to drive into me mercilessly, his pelvis making a delicious, loud smack each time it hits mine, mixing with low, visceral grunts and moans. "Is this how you want it?" he growls. _Slap. Slap_. "Is this how you wanna be fucked?"

_Damn, I love his beautiful, talented, dirty mouth._

"God, yes," I whimper, using my legs as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. So raw, so deep…s_o goddamn good. _The feeling is so intense this way, and I've never felt this completely consumed or possessed before. So fucking lost in the sheer carnality of it all. His eyes stay trained on mine, occasionally darting south, between my legs, to watch himself move in and out of me.

And I love it. The hungry way he looks at my body is sinful. Intoxicating.

"You feel so fucking good, Bella." His thick brows furrow in tight concentration, the sheen of perspiration coating his face and body, making him luminescent. I can see him struggling to keep it together, and I've hit that point where the intensity is almost too much, and I can't keep up with it much longer.

"Edward, please," I plead breathlessly, ready for him to let go.

The muscle in his jaw twitches, the cords in his neck straining. "No," he grounds out. "I want more…"

"What?" _Anything. I'd give him anything right now._

"Touch yourself. I want to watch you."

_Holy fuck._

I don't even hesitate, I'm so caught up in the moment and I want to do it just to watch his reaction. I bring my fingers to the place we're joined, positioning them so they can feel his cock sliding in and out while I place pressure on my clit, and we both groan in unison at the contact.

"Fuck, Bella," he rasps and accelerates his maddening pace as he starts to lose it.

It's all too much. Watching his beautiful body pound into me, his expressions, the animalistic sounds…the overwhelming feeling down below coils and blooms, and I realize I'm actually going to come. His eyes burn into me as my excitement builds, and I frantically increase the pressure of my fingers until the pleasure explodes and literally rockets through my entire body. I hear myself cry out his name, my body arcing like I'm possessed.

A string of obscenities fly out of his mouth, and his fingertips dig almost painfully into my backside as he lets himself go.

I have no words. I'm awestruck. And maybe even a little slap-happy giddy. I, Bella Marie Swan, just had an _orgasm _during the best sex in recorded history. If I wasn't so damn exhausted, I'd want to scream it out the window for all of New York City to hear.

I'm blissed out in an orgasm-induced haze as he helps me bring down my rubbery legs before collapsing on top of me. I love the way the weight of his body feels, and I run my fingernails up and down his back as I bask in my high, and we both catch our breath.

Edward groans. "Mmm…a little higher to the left."

I snicker, complying as he hums with contentment before he rolls off and pulls me into his side.

"God, I love fucking you," he murmurs, his mouth finding mine for a few tender kisses as he molds himself around me. "Among _other_ things."

I can't help but grin and burrow into him. "Ditto."

We lie peacefully in silence as this warm, floaty, euphoric feeling I only get with Edward permeates my bones. I let my mind wander, finding myself contemplating this wonderful man who has unexpectedly rocked my world.

I think about the way he manages to push me out of my narrow comfort zone and how liberating it feels.

I think about how much I love the immature lengths he took to flirt with me. The childish pager games and the chocolate fuckery.

_Wonderful, pretty, green-eyed button pusher. _

I think about how he patiently taught me how to suture because he knew it was important to me. About how he started sharing his food with me. About the self-control he exercised with our relationship because he wanted to do the right thing.

I think about how he told me he wants to continue said relationship and how insanely happy that made me.

I think about how at this point I would probably do anything for him.

Even move to New York if he wanted me to.

I'm going to blame it on those damn addictive orgasm-induced chemicals floating around my brain, but if I didn't know any better, I'd swear I was falling pretty hard for the good doctor.

How could I not?

I think I'm going to revise my resume.

XXX

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><p><strong>AN: SM owns all, of course...and hopefully will never know what I'm doing with her characters.**

**I'm excited to be a contributing author for the upcoming Fandom for No Kid Hungry and Fandom for Autism fundraisers! I'll be writing 2 outtakes, one of course being an EPOV of Chapter 20 ; ) Links will be on my profile.**

**Thanks as always to NKubie, Prettyflour, mcc101180, Beccagold and Pennyloafer who deserve sainthood for putting up with my crazy ass : )**

**See you soon! xoxo**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey there! Usual disclaimer applies : )**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

I step outside with Alice as we get ready to drive to the hospital and pause for a moment before getting into her car to take in the fresh spring air.

This is my favorite time of year. The days are longer and brighter. The air is warmer and sweeter. Flowers and trees bloom in beautiful and fragrant pastels. And there's so much green—wonderful, brilliant shades of lovely green.

And I was undeniably, out of-my-mind, crazy in love.

It seemed to take forever to admit it to myself. I just assumed it was infatuation or lust or a natural effect of those crazy sex-induced chemicals intended for bonding and propagation of the species and such. The realization that it was something much, much more struck me, oddly enough, during a Starbucks run with Alice.

I had asked her to make a pit stop with me one day because I was having an intense craving for one of their chai lattes. While we were there, I decided on a whim to buy a small bag of coffee beans.

Alice eyed me curiously and asked why I was buying it, and I just shrugged and explained it was the only coffee that Edward drank. I felt bad that he always had to go out for coffee whenever he stayed over.

She just gave me an odd look. I rolled my eyes with an accusatory "What," waiting for a snarky remark.

But she just smiled softly and said, "Nothing. That's just very sweet."

Her comment took me off guard, and though I tried not to, my brain just took off on this runaway train of disjointed thoughts.

I couldn't stop myself from thinking about all the things I'd been doing that I'd never imagined doing before. Not just making him overpriced coffee, but silly little things like calling him to say goodnight just because I liked his voice to be the last thing I'd hear before going to sleep. Or making sure my fridge had his favorite foods. Or saving all of my Krackel minis for him, because I felt bad eating them knowing they were his favorite.

I went on the subway with him, even though Charlie had instilled a deep-set fear in me and insisted I avoid it at all cost. I tried _fish_, for chrissakes. I realized I would probably even try sushi for him—though never admit if I liked it.

_Ugh…even the thought made me shudder._

The future had become something I thought about more and more often, and whenever I did, I couldn't imagine it without Edward being in it. That's why there was a stack of resumes in a drawer addressed to several New York hospitals for positions I never thought I'd want to take, just to keep my "options open." Just in case…

That's how it dawned on me how smitten I actually was. I _loved _him. As in, seeing-myself-wanting-to-wake-up-next-to-him-even-when-I'm-eighty kind of loved him. I really, really did.

So I decided to sit down and make a list of reasons to go back to Forks versus reasons to stay in New York. It's something I'd always done when faced with a tough decision. It seemed to make it simpler when you see it down in concrete black and white. And when I was done, there it was, staring me in the face. Even without "orgasms" on the list, New York was the clear winner—and that made me amazingly happy.

_But_…there was just this one little detail I still had to deal with before I bought an "I Love NY" tee-shirt; Edward had never told me that he actually wanted me to stay. And I really needed to hear that before I packed up my life and replanted it.

It was time I grabbed my ovaries and did something about it.

**XXX**

The following weeks seem to fly by like a big blur. I see Edward as much as our schedules allow, and he liked to take me places he felt made New York City unique, like the MET and the Museum of Natural History, Central Park, and Grand Central Terminal—which was surprisingly beautiful. I almost felt weightless staring up at the painted constellations on the impossibly high ceiling. We wandered around quaint neighborhoods like SoHo and the West Village, and went to the Union Square farmer's market. He even made sure to take me to a Yankees game last weekend. Now, I'm no sports fan, but that had to be the most exciting sporting event I'd ever seen. Yankee fans—such as Edward, apparently—are loud, passionate and sometimes crazy, and the energy in the stadium is almost surreal. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and the food there was pretty cool, too. Brother Jimmy's fried pickles and a Cuban sandwich? Yes and please.

I was having the time of my life.

My rotation in Psych is conveniently at Queens General again, which gives me extra time to see Edward during lunch and much to his delight, I can continue to do dinners with him when he's on call. Which is exactly what I'm doing today.

"So how was your day, dear?" Edward asks, as he happily digs into the chicken enchilada casserole I brought. This has become our "thing." We discuss interesting cases over dinner and chat like an old married couple. It's sweet in our own silly way. I love it.

"Interesting," I say with a grin. "I met the Tooth Fairy today."

He raises his eyebrows as he puts down his fork. "Really now? Do tell."

"Well, he didn't look anything like I expected."

His lips twitch with amusement. _"He?"_

"Oh yes. I never expected that he'd have so much dark facial hair." Quite the visual, I know. "Apparently he wasn't getting enough of his tooth quota for the month, so he decided to pull two of his own to make up the deficit."

Edward shakes his head and chuckles. "At least it's a refreshing change from the different incarnations of Jesus you've met."

Ah yes, Jesus is a popular one. I've met him three times already in the past four weeks.

Psych has been much less demanding than Ob/Gyn was, with regular eight-to-five days. The experience has ranged from comical to tragic, so I like to share the more lighthearted cases as opposed to the sadder ones, like the poor thirteen-year-old girl brought in yesterday who was hearing voices.

Edward shifts in his seat, leaning back lazily in his chair once he's finished eating. "So, Emmett and Rose are going to see a show at the Bowery Ballroom Saturday night. You want to go?"

"Are you kidding?" I gush excitedly with a little shimmy. "I'd love to!"

He's grinning at my over-enthusiasm. "It's such a great place. Want to ask Alice and Jasper, too?" he adds.

I love that the six of us have been able to hang out as a group so easily. It's allowed me to spend more time with Alice, and Rose and Emmett are just so much fun. Besides going to Tara's together a few more times, we did a pub crawl together through the East Village that was an absolute blast. And the chance to go to the Bowery? I don't even care who's playing—sign me up. Saturday night can't come fast enough.

**XXX**

"That show was just amazing," I prattle happily as we leave the venue and each go our separate ways home. I'm buzzing off of a live music high, with a little help from the beers we had after the show. I bounce on my toes and tug on Edward's untucked button-down shirt. "Come on, I don't want to go home yet. Can we get a snack? Pleeeease?" I whine.

"Woman, you and your stomach…Sometimes I think you can out-eat Emmett."

I swat his arm with a scowl. "You're just jealous of my unnaturally fast metabolism."

He chuckles as he scratches his neck. "Okay, fine. What do you want?"

I stifle a giggle. _Such a loaded question, Dr. Cullen._ "Something sweet. And different."

He furrows his thick brows quizzically. "Different?"

"Yup. Something I can't get just anywhere."

He snickers softly, throwing his arm around my shoulder as we walk. "Different and sweet, hmm?" He pauses for a moment while he thinks about it. "You know what? I may have just the thing."

We walk a few blocks until we reach a tiny little café called Creperie NYC. And I mean tiny. I can't see more than ten people fitting in it. But it smells like heaven inside, and when I start to read the large menu displayed over a counter where a pretty dark-haired woman is taking orders, I actually start to salivate.

Edward orders a crepe with butter and sugar, and I'm having such a hard time deciding. Do I get the French dark chocolate crepe? Ooooh, wait—they have Nutella! Nutella with strawberries? Or bananas? Or both?

_Can't I just taste them all?_

But then something jumps out at me. "I'll have a Nutella and Dulce de Leche crepe, please."

After the first succulent bite, I know I made the right choice. It's melt-in-your-mouth gooey and sweet; nutty, chocolaty, buttery carameliciousness all wrapped up in a delicious crispy-edged crepe. It's like I need to make up a slew of words that don't exist just to do it justice.

"This is so, so good. You definitely can't get anything like this in Forks," I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

Edward smiles with smug enjoyment as he watches me eat. "No, you definitely can't."

I'm having one of those "it-doesn't-get-any-better-than-this" moments that just solidifies my feelings and strengthens my resolve.

I shuffle my feet on the floor, trying to summon the courage I'd been gathering all week to lay it out on the table…I need to test the waters, see how he'll react.

"So, umm…" I hesitate, causing Edward to look up from his food curiously, waiting patiently. _Just spit it out._ "Alice asked me to live with her after graduation. She's trying to talk me into staying in New York." I bite the inside of my lip as my heart flutters with nervous energy, watching tentatively for his reaction.

His expression is unnervingly neutral. "Oh really? What did you tell her?"

"Nothing yet."

He cocks his head to the side as he studies my face. "Is it something you're considering?"

"I'm not really sure, but I've been thinking about it," I admit cautiously, shifting in my seat. "She said the hospitals are always looking for PAs, and that I could get some really great experience here. She really wants me to stay."

_Do you, Edward?_

He nods his head thoughtfully, and I catch a quick little jaw twitch. "Well, it doesn't really matter what Alice wants," he says. My stomach twists a little at his response. "What do you want, Bella?"

_I want to hear that you want me to stay. Please, please, _please_ tell me you want me to stay._

My foot taps away, and I tuck my trembling hands under the table, trying to appear as cool as possible. This conversation is even more difficult than I anticipated.

I just take a deep breath. "I don't know. I mean, there are just a lot of things to consider."

He leans his elbow on the table, running his index finger and thumb along his jaw, making my eyes distractedly follow their movement. "I'm sure there are."

_Dammit, Edward! You're not making this very easy for me!_

I don't even know what to say, so I just toy with my food, feeling his eyes burning into me. But I can't meet them.

"Bella, it doesn't matter what anyone else wants. This is your life and your decision."

"I know," I mutter, hoping I don't sound as pouty as I feel, as frustration and disappointment pull my heart down into my gut.

_Fuck._

_He's not going to ask me to stay._

I'm silent. I try to eat another forkful, just to keep my mouth busy, but my food feels too thick to swallow.

There's a bout of tense silence that feels like it goes on forever. I don't know why I feel so dejected. I mean, what exactly was I expecting? Did I really think he'd jump up and down and beg me to move here?

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

"Bella."

"Hmm?" I answer lamely. I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm just barely resisting the urge to run into the bathroom and cry. So fucking pathetic.

"Will you look at me, please?" Ugh. He's using that silky, soothing voice on me. That same voice he uses in the delivery room to keep hysterical women in labor calm.

_Cue internal eye-roll._

I do my best to rearrange my features into a pleasant, impassive mask before I let him start pulling his voodoo bullshit on me.

"Listen, this is a big deal. I know you have a life, and a job and a family waiting for you back in Forks. That's a lot to give up, and you aren't going to change your life plans for Alice—or for anyone else, for that matter—unless it's what you really want." His gaze is intense and pointed. "You only do it if you're absolutely certain it's what is right for you."

"I know," I answer weakly.

He leans in closer, his green eyes now gentle and warm. "And no matter how much I would really love for you to stay here, this is a decision only you can make, and I have no right to try to influence it in any way."

I just nod in silent agreement, because I know he's right. And even if this wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, it thrills and encourages me to know that at least he does want me to stay. "Maybe Alice isn't the main reason for me to stay in New York."

I feel his ankle nestle next to mine under the table as his lips curl into that lethal lopsided smirk he must know I can't resist. "No?"

"No," I say with a small shrug. "Like I said, there are a lot of things to consider."

"Well, if it would help you to use me as a sounding board, I see nothing wrong with that."

_Hmm…I can work with this_. "First of all, if I take an ER position, it would give me a lot more suturing experience, and it would reinforce my general medicine skills, right?"

"That's an excellent point."

"Second of all, there is a little bit more to do around here than there is in Forks," I say with a smirk, lifting an eyebrow for emphasis.

"Without a doubt," he concurs with a grin.

"And, well…" I hesitate as my nerves flare up again. _Come on, Swan. It's time to put on your big girl panties._ "There are some things I'd really miss," I add.

Edward licks his lips. "Such as?"

I bite at my lip, feeling my face get really warm. Am I really ready to show my cards? Will it freak him out to hear that I would move here to be with him? Am I willing to put myself out there like this?

_Yes._

So I take a deep breath in and hope for the best as I watch him carefully. "I'd miss this," I say softly, motioning at the space between us. "Too much."

Edward grins like sunshine and spring are emanating from within, and before I can even register what's happening, his lips meet mine so tenderly that I can actually feel my insides dissolving into a puddle of warm, melted happiness.

_Like Nutella and Dulce de Leche._

"Me, too," he replies simply, tucking my hair behind my ear and giving me goose bumps as my favorite shade of beautiful, beautiful green burrows its way into my soul. "_Too much_."

That's how I know I'm making the right decision. Nothing has ever felt more _right._

I almost feel lightheaded with relief and euphoria. My heart is soaring, and the ovaries are Snoopy-dancing. With a flush of the cheeks and a light sigh, the heaviness dissipates, and I'm filled with this comforting buoyancy that somehow, some way, everything is going to fall into place.

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><p><strong>AN: Dayum, what I wouldn't do for one of those crepes right now.**

**Big love to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, prettyflour, NKubie, and twilover76, and to my beta mcc101180. And always to you amazing, lovely peeps in fanficland : )**

**If you haven't already, go check out the Fandoms 4 Autism compilation. Some of my favorite authors are contributing! Links are on my profile.**

**xoxo**


	26. Chapter 26

***Peeks through fingers* Still with me?**

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><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

I have a theory that Fate is a twisted fuck with a sick sense of humor. When things are going well and seem too good to be true, I can't help looking over my shoulder. In the back of my mind, I still half-expected to find out some sort of skeleton in Edward's closet…a freaky fetish he hadn't admitted to yet, bodies buried in the backyard—I just kept waiting for that other shoe to drop.

But so far the only negatives I'd found about him had to do with his little odd OCD tendencies. Like how his music collection was filed by genre and alphabetically, and how he got rather pissy if you put something away out of order. Or that he had to bring his own toothpaste when he stayed over because he can only use his brand. Even his refrigerator was organized and set up so that no two items were touching each other. Of course, that only made it entirely too much fun to fuck with him.

Oh, and I learned he could be an ornery bitch before his first cup of coffee. But I also discovered that morning sex took care of that rather nicely.

All in all, everything was going really, _really_ well. It had been one week since Edward and I had the "conversation," and I'd been floating on my "Edward wants me to stay in New York" high. He'd made it blissfully clear that my decision made him happy. In fact, he showed me exactly _how_ happy he was that night when we got back to his apartment.

Right up against the door the moment it closed, to be exact.

A happy Edward is a truly wonderful Edward indeed. He'd been carefree and relaxed. Playful and deliciously insatiable. He'd even emailed me several local job openings for PAs, which I took as a good indication that he liked the idea of keeping me here.

Which, of course, made me stupid happy as well.

Alice literally pounced on me when I told her I had decided to stay, and we discussed renewing our lease for another year since we liked our current location. I took the leap and mailed out my secret stack of resumes.

I was even enjoying my last rotation in Internal Medicine. The doctor who precepted me was soft-spoken with a dry, sometimes corny sense of humor, and he let me see patients independently. I loved it.

Indeed, everything seemed to be perfect. With the exception of one teensy-tiny, minor detail.

I still hadn't told my parents. Or Angela. Or Dr. Simon, the pediatrician back in Forks who was expecting me to start working for him in six weeks.

_Ugh._

I was just building up my nerve. It felt like I was preparing to break up with my old life, and the prospect filled me with dread. I wanted to savor my little love-struck bliss bubble for a while before letting reality burst it.

I knew my mom would be supportive. She was the one who convinced my dad that it was a good idea for me to choose a program someplace other than Washington. Renee understood the desire to experience a different part of the country. Unlike my dad, who grew up in Forks, still went fishing with his grade school buddies, and seemed to be under the impression that everyone who lived in New York was like something out of _The Sopranos_.

If I had to be honest, the fact that my father didn't like the idea of me living in New York probably made it even more enticing. But he agreed to it since I had originally planned to return to Forks after I graduated.

I didn't even want to think about his reaction.

My plan was to break the news to Angela first, figuring she would be good practice for me. She'd completely understand, especially since she knew about my growing relationship with Edward.

But of course, that would have been _too_ simple.

As luck would have it, Angela was away in Cabo San Lucas with her boyfriend all week, so I couldn't reach her until she returned this weekend.

And when I came home to two obnoxiously guilt-laden messages from my mother, complaining she was worried I joined a cult or had been murdered by a gang, I knew I couldn't continue avoiding my parents. If I don't call them back today, there's a good chance they'll be on my doorstep by the morning.

I could just imagine Charlie going all _Rambo. _

I try to amuse myself with that little visual to keep from having a panic attack while I hole up in my room and dial home with shaky hands.

My heart pounds in my ears as I wait for someone to pick up.

**Ring.** _Please let them understand_.

**Ring.** _At least Charlie doesn't have a heart condition, right? Well, at least none that I know of…would he even tell me?_

**Ring.** _Maybe they aren't home. I could just leave a message, let them know I'm alive and buy some more time…_

**Rin**— "Bella! I was ready to file a missing person report!"

_Dang! So close._

I take a deep breath and swallow my heart back down where it belongs. I'm making a mountain out of a molehill for nothing."Sorry, Mom. Things are just hectic, you know?"

"I know, baby. You work so hard, and your dad and I are so proud of you. But you're almost finished, and we can't wait to finally see you!"

_You're trying to make this even more difficult for me, aren't you?_ My mother is royally gifted in the guilt department. Are all mothers like that? Is this something that develops with pregnancy, or is it a talent that is passed on generation to generation?

"Actually, that's why I've been trying to reach you," she continues. "We're trying to work out details for your graduation." I stare blankly at my sage-green bedroom wall, desperately trying to focus as she launches an animated exposition about plane tickets and a hotel, how they are arranging to stay a few days in New York so that she could drag my father sight-seeing, and whether I'd made arrangements to ship my stuff back home yet.

And all I can think of is how excited she sounds…how I'm about to slap her with the news that I'm not going back with them.

A wave of unexpected homesickness hits me, and I realize how much I miss my parents. Christmas was the last time I was home, and it feels like forever. Her words begin to blend together, mixing with my guilt and distorting into some kind of garbled foreign language.

"Bella, now I know you aren't listening. You just agreed to take us to a strip club, for chrissakes!"

_Oh, good God! _

I struggle to bring myself back into the moment, trying to remember the last thing she said. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just…"

"Distracted. Busy. Tired. I know, you've been saying that for weeks now. Something's going on with you, and I'm tired of waiting for you to tell me on your own. What's wrong?"

Of course she knows something is up. What my mom sorely lacks in culinary skills, she more than makes up for in intuition. She always knew if I wasn't telling the truth. I'm pretty sure she didn't believe that story I concocted when I got into the motorcycle accident. Her skepticism was written all over her face. I'm a shitty liar. But she never called me out on it—it was like she gave me my one and only get-out-of-jail-free pass, and I never abused it again.

Renee always knew.

I sigh with resignation, a sickly feeling twisting and churning in the pit of my stomach. I start to worry that I may be developing an ulcer, and I'm suddenly making mental checklists of symptoms for stomach cancer, Barrett's Esophagitis, and Crohn's Disease, among other things.

Goddamn over-emotional gut.

"Nothing's wrong, Mom. Actually, things are going really well," I reassure her.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she says, and the relief in her voice is blatant. Fuck, she's been worried. Yet another addition to the "Why Bella Swan is the worst daughter ever" list. There's dead air on the line for a moment while each of us waits for the other to speak before I hear a light huff on the other end. "Dammit, Bella, you're worse than your father sometimes," she finally says with a playful tone. "Don't make me pull it out of you!"

I snort. As much as I hate to think I'm like Charlie, I know I didn't get my communication skills—or lack thereof—from my mom. "Well, you know how you've been asking me if I'm seeing anyone?" _Every single time we talk?_

"I knew it! I absolutely knew it!" Renee gushes excitedly. "Tell me all about him. How long have you been dating? Is it serious? When did you meet him? Wait—I didn't mean to assume it's a _him. _You know it doesn't matter to me, right? I love you no matter—"

"_Mom!"_ I cut her off before she can keep going. It has been a while since I've dated anyone, but seriously?

No. Definitely did not get my communication skills from my mother. The woman has no filter whatsoever.

"I haven't been dating _him _for very long. I met him during my Ob/Gyn rotation." Brief and simple.

"Is he a doctor?"

"He's one of the residents I worked with. He's exceptionally bright, and he's an excellent doctor." He's an excellent_ everything._ "He's actually going to do a fellowship in Gynecologic Oncology."

"He sounds wonderful, sweetie. I'm so happy you've found someone. You know, to be honest, I've been worried that you'd just come back home and settle for Jacob again. And as nice as he is, I always knew you could do better."

Well, color me stupefied. She isn't Team Jacob like Charlie?

"Yeah, well, I don't really see that ever happening." Especially not now. How could you go back to Chef Boyardeeafter you've had the best authentic Italian food ever_?_ "Jacob is just better friend material."

"I'm happy to hear you say that, and I completely agree. He's a good boy, just not the _right _boy for you," she says. "So tell me, what's the brilliant doctor's name?"

"Edward." I debate on keeping it at just that, but realize that it's time for full disclosure. "Cullen." An involuntary smile pulls at my lips at the mere mention of his name. I shake my head at my pathetic self.

"How funny," she replies off-handedly. "I wonder if there's any relation to Dr. Cullen."

"Actually, it's his son."

I hear a soft gasp. "That Edward Cullen? Oh good God, of course it is! I remember Carlisle telling us Edward was going to medical school in New York. Such a small world, isn't it?"

I've thought the same thing countless times. "Very small world."

"That boy had the oddest shade of reddish-brown hair and such pretty eyes. He was quite handsome, if I recall—but I mean, just look at his father. Such good-looking genes in that family."

The idea of my own mother checking out Dr. Cullen squicks me out a bit, though it shouldn't surprise me. She is human, after all. "You know him?" I ask.

"Of course. Living in a town like Forks, you know everyone. Oh Bella, you'd make beautiful babies together."

"Mom!" I chastise her, horrified. "See? This is why I don't tell you anything. We've only been dating a little over a month!"

"Oh, lighten up. I'm not marrying you off just yet. I can wait a little longer to be a grandmother. I can't wait to meet him when we come out!"

Oh, yeah. That's going to be more fun than shooting myself in the foot.

"So, um, yeah…Well, you know…"

She interrupts me as I trip over myself trying to find the right words to say next. "Just spit it out, Bella. I don't know why you haven't realized by now that you can tell me anything."

"I know. It's just, well…I decided to stay here in New York a little while longer."

Another pregnant pause as she processes, and my stomach flip-flops again. "Oh, sweetie," she finally says, and I'm bracing myself for her reaction. "That doesn't surprise me in the least. Is that why you've been MIA?"

Really?

I let out a long, slow breath, feeling a little relieved by her sympathetic tone. "Pretty much," I admit, toying with the hem of my shirt. "I just had no idea how you and Dad would react. Especially Dad."

She huffs softly. "You know your father. He'll get over it. Besides, we've been getting along just fine without you for some time now."

There's something suggestive in her voice that I don't want to even acknowledge.

"Really? You're totally okay with it?"

I don't know how I feel at this moment. Surprised? Relieved? Anticlimactic?

"Totally okay with it? Well, as much as I can be. You know I hate having you so far away. But I trust your judgment. Have you really thought this through?"

I chuckle humorlessly. "To death."

"You've taken into consideration everything you'd be giving up? Including your friends? Your job?"

"Yes," I say softly with a nod. "I'm hoping I can get a job here that will give me some broader experience before I specialize in pediatrics."

"And you're absolutely sure this is what you really want to do?"

I'm sure I'd never forgive myself if I didn't take the chance to find out what Edward and I could be together.

"I'm positive, Mom."

"Does he treat you well? Does he make you happy?"

Another smile sneaks across my lips. Happy seems to be such an understatement. "Yeah. He really does."

"Then it's the right thing to do."

Yes. Yes, it is.

**XXX**

It's a little after eleven on Saturday night. Edward and I lie entwined on his leather couch watching _Saving Private Ryan, _and I'm all comfy-cozy in one of his tee-shirts and his boxers_. _He had a rough call the night before and was really worn out, so we decided to stay in and have a nice couch-potato kind of evening. I'm not even paying attention to the movie anymore, just enjoying the soft texture of his hair through my fingers and the solid security of his body pressed into mine. I should probably go to bed, but I'm so warm and so comfortable I don't want to move.

"What's that noise?" he mutters, pulling me out of my little zone-out.

"What noise?" I don't hear anything.

"Just wait, you'll hear it."

I wait…and wait. And snuggle back into him as I continue my stakeout for things that go bump in the night.

I'm teetering on the edge of semi consciousness when I hear a faint sound that didn't come from the television.

"_That._" Edward shifts, turning his head in the direction it came from.

"It's my phone. I have a message," I groan, making no effort to move.

"Well, don't you want to check it or at least shut it off?"

_Aw, man_. "Fine," I grumble with a huff, reluctantly extricating myself as Edward sits up and scratches his head.

My cell phone is somewhere in my purse, which sits perched on his lovely granite kitchen countertop. I dig around until I find the damn thing, hoping it's not another drunk-text from Jacob.

It isn't. There are actually two texts and one missed call from Angela, all telling me she has to talk to me ASAP.

"It's my friend, Angela. Mind if I call her back?"

"Sure," he says groggily. "Use the bedroom. I'll just finish the movie out here."

I kiss him lightly on the lips before retreating to his room, sinking into his crisp steel-blue bedding. I can't wait to hear about her trip and find out what the urgency is about.

"Bellie!" she squeals, picking up on the first ring.

"Angie!" I answer with a chuckle at her enthusiasm. "What's with the stalking? How was your trip?"

"Oh my God, it was amazing! Cabo is so beautiful, and I drank so much!"

I've never been outside of the US, and I listen with a touch of longing as she goes on with details about her vacation.

"But that isn't even the best part," she gushes. "We were walking on the beach after dinner one night, watching the sunset, and out of the blue, Ben drops down on his knee and pops out a ring! He proposed! I'm engaged! Holy shit, Bella! I'm engaged!"

I let out a surprised gasp. "Holy shit is right! Congratulations!" I squeal, filled with excitement for her. Angela had been casual friends with Ben Cheney in high school, but nothing more. She ran into him at a bar in Port Angeles about six months ago, and apparently he was quite the late bloomer; the years had been good to him. She couldn't stop blathering about how much he'd changed, how charming he was and funny and cute and blah, blah, blah. Angela fell head-over-heels for the matured version hard and fast, and things moved quickly from there.

"You're going to be my Maid of Honor of course, right?"

"Of course! As long as you promise not to make me wear anything that even remotely resembles Jessica's bridesmaid dresses." The only thing that could have improved those frilly monstrosities was a blow torch.

She laughs at that. "Scout's honor. And I promise not to go all Bridezilla on you like she did, either."

We talk a bit more about her wedding plans, and she goes on about dress shopping and an engagement party, and I'm just filled with so much happiness for her. Angela has always been such a die-hard romantic, and she's just so excited about everything. I'd swear she's been planning her wedding since we were eleven.

Her euphoria is contagious, and I'm swept away with her as I picture how surreal it will be to watch my best friend, the girl I've known since we were in diapers, walk down the aisle in a flowing white dress.

"So have you guys discussed a date?" I ask.

"Ben doesn't want a long engagement, so we're getting married this winter. I think a winter theme wedding will be so beautiful! I can just picture everything snow white, and maybe you could wear an ice-blue gown…"

Edward saunters into the bedroom, all sleepy-eyed and ruffled hair. He eyes me conspicuously and curiously as he sits down next to me on his bed. I smile and hold up a finger to signal him to wait, offering an apologetic glance.

"Angie, I'm sorry but I have to go. Can I call you back tomorrow?"

"Oh, no problem," she replies chipperly. "I've been blabbering away and I didn't even think about the time difference. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

We say our goodbyes, and I turn my attention back to Edward, still brimming with girlie excitement.

"So, what was that all about?"

"By best friend Angela just got engaged. She asked me to be her Maid of Honor."

"Oh, really now? I guess congratulations are in order, then." With that, he gently pushes me onto my back, hovering over me with a devilish grin. "May I kiss the bridesmaid?"

"That's Maid of Honor to you," I reply with a smirk, wrapping my legs around his hips as he kisses me soundly.

He presses his weight into me, and I feel the temperature in the room rise as he runs his lips along my jaw, going directly for that damn spot underneath my ear that renders me incoherent. His breath tickles and warms my neck, and I let out a faint whimper.

"I thought you were tired," I barely whisper, finding it difficult to speak between his maddening ministrations and his weight on my body.

"Never too tired for you," he murmurs into my ear.

I surrender to him happily, while images of dancing with the most beautiful man alive at my best friend's wedding swirl through my head.

**XXX**

I lie curled into Edward's side, completely sated and exhausted, focusing on his deepening respirations and hoping it will lull me into unconsciousness the way it usually does. But when his body relaxes as sleep takes him, mine doesn't follow.

Apparently my brain seems to have gotten its second wind.

The sensible side of it has kicked in, reminding me of one very critical detail.

How am I going to be Angela's Maid of Honor while I'm living on the other side of the country?

A heaviness clouds over me as I start to do the math in my head, trying to figure out how I'll manage to be there for an engagement party and the wedding. And let's not forget a bridal shower. And a bachelorette party. In less than a year? How will I get enough money saved up in time? Plane tickets alone are outrageously expensive, and I learned from Jessica's wedding that it's expensive to be in a wedding party once all is said and done.

I don't even have a job here yet. Assuming I eventually do get one, will I even be allowed to take all this time off?

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-_fuck_!

There it is. The resounding sound of the other shoe dropping.

How am I going to manage to stay in New York and be Angela's Maid of Honor? Am I just going to have to tell her no? I know she'd understand…but I love her to death and can't imagine crushing her like that. Angela is the closest thing to a sister I've ever had. I've known her my entire life. She's always been there for me through all these years, for every crush, every fight with my parents, every high and every low. I _have_ to be there for something that is this important to her.

I have to figure out a way to make this work. First and foremost, I needed money. I'll have to find a job as soon as possible.

But what if I can't get a job right away? How would I afford wedding and travel expenses? How would I pay rent? I had used up all the money I'd saved for school and had very little left from school loans…maybe enough to get me through one more month's rent if I'm lucky.

Borrowing money from my parents wasn't even an option in my mind. They wouldn't say no to me, but there's no way they can spare it. I could never put them in a position like that.

Then there is that little voice in the back of my brain that reminds me that I already have a job waiting for me. In Washington. And I know Dr. Simon wouldn't have a problem giving me any time off I needed. I wouldn't miss any wedding events. I wouldn't have to worry about travel expenses.

I wouldn't have Edward, either.

And as much as it hurt me to disappoint Angela, the idea of losing Edward was so much worse.

_Not even an option_.

There has to be a way to make everything fit into place. I just need to send out more resumes here. Something would have to come through somehow, even if it wasn't my ideal choice.

Edward shifts, tightening his hold on me. I breathe him in, letting his scent ground me as I convince myself that everything will somehow work out.

It has to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Usual disclaimer applies.**

******No one wants to hear my lame-ass excuses why this took so long**, **so I'll just say I'm sorry and thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me. You guys are better than double-dark chocolate brownies a la mode. With hot fudge, of course ;)******

**Oh, and in case anyone is interested in a little back-story, I started posting the outtakes I wrote for the charity compilations. Big squishee hugs to those of you who donated! Thank you!**

**And last but not least, all my love to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour, NKubie, Twilly, Twilover76 and mcc101180.**

**xoxo**


	27. Chapter 27

**Usual disclaimer applies.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 27<strong>

Number of days until graduation: 11

Number of days until lease is up: 14

Number of responses from countless resumes sent out: 0

I'm freaking out. I had no idea how long it was going to take me to find a job, and quite a few of my fellow classmates were in the same position. When we were told there would be eight jobs available to every graduate, I never took into account that they may be in areas nowhere near where I needed to be. Unfortunately, there are hundreds of new grads like me saturating the job market, and it seems like you need to know someone or have some kind of inside connection to get a job quickly.

I don't know what the hell to do.

Alice and I sit in the living room eating Chinese takeout and watching TV. We had never formally discussed what we would do if either of us didn't get a job, and since neither of us had and time was running out, I decided one of us had to bite the bullet and bring the subject to the table.

"So, um…I still haven't gotten any responses yet from any of the resumes I sent out. Have you?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

She groans and shakes her head. "Nothing. I've been thinking about going back to my old job until I find one."

"I have no idea what I'm going to do," I mutter. "I have enough money for one more month's rent, so I hope that will be enough time to find something. Jasper is so lucky to have found a job already."

"Yeah, if you want to work in surgery fifty to sixty hours a week in the Bronx," she says with a sigh. Alice hated surgery, but Jasper loved it. He'd kept in touch with one of the doctors from our surgical rotation, and last month he got a call that there was a position opening. "He keeps telling me he'll support my lazy ass as long as I walk around his apartment naked all the time."

I quirk my eyebrow at her with a chuckle, and she's suddenly focusing way too hard on the television.

During a commercial.

My eyes narrow. "Why do you look constipated?" I ask. She looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. Alice _never_ looks uncomfortable.

"Oh, shut up," she snips back.

"What is it then? Is something going on with Jasper?"

She looks down and starts picking at her finely manicured nails. "Not really," she begins, and then looks at me with a super-serious, atypical-Alice expression. "It's just that, well…" Her shoulders drop and her face is solemn. "He wants me to move in with him. I told him no, of course," she adds quickly.

Because of me. "Oh, no…I feel terrible—"

"Don't! I don't think I'm ready for that step, anyway."

"But I thought you were so sure he was 'the one,'" I say, emphasizing with air-quotes. "Has that changed?"

"No, not at all," she replies with a shrug. "I just like my independence, that's all."

My eyes narrow as I look her up and down. She won't look at me. I don't believe her.

"Well, you spend ninety percent of your free time with him as it is. It would kind of make sense."

"Will you stop? I already have a roommate, and she cooks ten times better than he does," she retorts, finally turning to me with a playful glare.

I slump into the couch as all the little curveballs I'd been thrown start to churn and fulminate in my head. Angela's wedding. The lack of job offers. And now I'm preventing Alice from moving in with Jasper.

Suddenly everything seems so wrong. Staying in New York is becoming increasingly complicated by the day and affecting more and more people.

Angela was completely understanding when I finally told her about my plans, and I promised her I would be there for as much as I could manage. But my dad still hadn't spoken to me since he heard the news. Mom assured me he'd get over it soon enough and to just give him time to digest it.

And now Alice and Jasper…

It's like the universe is outright peeing on my parade.

"Alice, maybe we should talk about this."

She rolls her eyes. "There's nothing to discuss, okay?"

I open my mouth to protest, but she immediately cuts me off. "Shhhh!" she hisses with a death glare.

"Don't you _shush _me!" I snap back defiantly.

"I'll shush you whenever I want," she returns with an evil smirk. "And this discussion is officially closed."

_Goddamn stubborn little gnome._

"You're so lucky I like you," I grumble.

She bats her eyelashes at me. "You love me."

I sigh deeply. Of course I do. Which is why this new bit of information really bothers me.

**XXX**

"Are we there yet?"

I roll my eyes with a grin and shake my head. "Not yet," I reply sweetly.

"Maybe that's because you drive like a senior citizen," Edward gripes, glaring at me with mock-annoyance.

"No, I drive the speed limit. You should try it sometime."

He huffs indignantly. "Amateur."

I bite my lip, chuckling at his impatience. In the road of life, there are drivers and there are passengers. Edward Cullen is not a passenger.

"You're just being a baby because I won't tell you where we're going. Can't you just chill out and enjoy the ride?"

Emmett had not-so-subtly announced last week that Edward was turning the big "three-oh" this Monday, and despite his irritation at being outed and his grumpy insistence that "he doesn't celebrate birthdays," I wanted to do something to make it special. So tomorrow I'm cooking a big, traditional, Italian-style dinner with the crew, just like Gianna's family used to do. Antipasto, lasagna, chicken francaise, stuffed artichokes, eggplant parmesan—the whole nine yards. But today I wanted him all to myself, and with a few great ideas from Alice, I had the entire day mapped out and was excited to get to our destination.

Which seemed to be taking quite a bit longer than I expected.

"Where is this place, anyway? It looks like we're in Kansas or something," Edward grumbles as we pass yet another sod farm. We're on a long, slow-moving, single lane highway flanked with charming cedar shake houses, farm stands and the occasional pick-your-own fields. It's difficult to believe we're still on Long Island.

I get a little giddy when I finally see a sign that tells me we're close.

_Welcome to Long Island Wine Country._

Edward raises his thick eyebrows at my goofy grin, but I just keep driving, keeping an eye out for the winery. We pass several on the way, and I'm beginning to worry if I missed the place until I finally see the sign for Hollow Oak Vineyard. I turn in, following the long gravel driveway to what looks like a huge house with cedar shingles and a wraparound porch, only there are seemingly endless rows of grapes growing in the backyard.

"So we're going wine tasting? On Long Island?" Edward asks as we get out of my car.

"Why not? I figured we needed some wine for the dinner tomorrow night, and I thought this would be a cool way to pick what you like. There are three wineries Alice recommended."

We enter the tasting room, where people line the long wooden counter, swirling and sipping wine glasses, chatting and laughing. We find a space to situate ourselves, and a tan, young, blonde woman soon greets us and gives us a sheet of paper listing all the wines they offer. It describes each wine, listing their flavors, aromas and finishes, as well as recommended food parings.

Very cool.

I notice one of the reds is described as "cherry, cassis, and plum with chewy tannins."

Sounds...interesting…

Heidi—the aforementioned blonde woman—chats with us freely about their wines as she pours small samples of each one for the tasting. I learn about the different grapes they grow, differences between steel barrel versus oak barrel fermenting, and how to "properly" swirl a glass to release the wine's aroma.

I also learn that little "tastings" of six different wines can go to a girl's head pretty quickly. I'm already eyeing Edward like he's a piece of meat and wondering if we can get away with a quickie in one of the bathrooms.

Yeah, I'm classy like that.

Would Edward go for it?

Before I get too carried away, I decide it's a good time to bring out the lunch I packed. A little food in the stomach to absorb the alcohol is probably a good idea.

I break out the fresh baguette and the cooler I filled with fruit and several different cheeses, and we settle outside at one of the teak picnic tables. We sit back and enjoy the view of the vineyard, soaking up the sunshine while sipping wine and picking leisurely at our little feast.

It's heavenly.

Slowly the tables around us start filling up as the sun sits high up in the clear sky. Two guys with guitars set up their equipment in the corner of the large covered porch, and soon the warm air fills with music. They play mostly oldies from the 70s, and a few people eventually get up to dance. It reminds me of the music my mom listened to when I was growing up.

"Brown-Eyed Girl" starts to play, and I happily bounce my foot to the beat. I've always loved this song. It reminds me of summer and sunshine and fun. Edward unexpectedly stands up with a lazy grin. "Dance with me," he says, extending his hand.

My eyes widen and I shake my head. "I can't dance," I admit, swatting away his hand. It's not like there's a large crowd of people I can blend into. I'll feel like a clumsy idiot.

"You can't say no to me. It's my birthday," he retorts, flashing me that intentionally irresistible smile. He grabs my hand, and I follow him reluctantly up onto the porch.

He holds me close, smoothly maneuvering our bodies to the music, his green eyes and warm smile keeping me captive. And it's so perfect. Especially when the music slows and we settle into a sweet, hypnotic sway. I'm almost lightheaded, and I can't tell if it's from the wine or Edward's voodoo.

I am so going to pull him into that bathroom. Or maybe we can find a place to hide somewhere in the vineyard…

"You know, I've been thinking."

I snicker under my breath. "Sounds dangerous. Better be careful not to strain yourself, old man."

"You think you're so funny, eh?" He responds with a light slap on my ass, making me squeak in surprise. "You wanna be fresh? I can be fresh, too."

"You are such an ass man," I counter with a snort.

He shakes his head. "Well, you've got a great ass. But now you're distracting me."

I pull him down and kiss him, playfully dragging his bottom lip through my teeth and eliciting a spine-tingling groan. "No, _that _was me distracting you."

"We should get a room."

I giggle. "You're right. I'll stop distracting you. You were saying?"

"No, I'm serious. Why don't we find a place to stay out here tonight?"

My smile takes over my face. "Yeah?"

His head dips down and he nuzzles into my neck. "Yeah," he murmurs into my ear.

The ovaries do a little shimmy. _Hells yeah_.

We spend a few more hours exploring the North Fork. There are so many wineries, and we stop at a few more, though I don't partake in full tastings—I just take little sips here and there when something interests me. I am driving, after all. We buy a few bottles of wine that I think will compliment dinner tomorrow, as well as a bottle to open tonight.

There are also plenty of farm stands selling fresh local produce along the way, and I pick up some strawberries and peaches, as well as a few fresh baked rhubarb squares that smell wonderful. We keep heading east until we hit the town of Greenport, where, after a little bit of driving around, we find a small, modest beach motel with a "vacancy" sign.

We drink wine in our motel-grade clear plastic cups, sitting on the beach and chatting about nothing, nibbling on buttery-fruity rhubarb squares. The wine, as usual, has gone straight to my head—or should I say straight to my lady bits—because everything Edward says is funny as fuck, and all I can think about is how beautiful his mouth is.

How beautiful his _everything_ is.

Edward is really one shmexy mofo.

He stops talking about whatever he was talking about, and one side of his mouth curls up into this fuckhot, I-can-so-read-your-mind smirk. So why fight it? I straddle him, intentionally wriggling around and causing some yummy friction, humming with delight as he digs his hands into my ass.

"Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"I have a very serious question for you." _Wiggle, wiggle_.

"Oh, really?" _Squeeze._ "You can ask me anything."

"Anything?" _Wiggle, wiggle, grind, wiggle_.

He groans as I drag my mouth down his neck. "Anything," he rasps out.

"Why are we not naked?" I ask, right before I slip my tongue into his delicious, Riesling-flavored mouth.

He's on his feet in a flash, practically dragging me up to our motel room. His lips are all over me the moment the door latches, and clothing starts to fly everywhere and litter the floor.

We gracelessly tumble onto one of the double-beds, and I pull away for a moment to catch my breath. I just want to see that hungry, almost desperate way he looks at me.

_Good God, how I love this man._

Part of me wants to tell him so badly, but I just can't. Because the other part of me is such a coward.

But…I can show him.

I want him to see it in my eyes, feel it in my kisses and in my touch.

I roll him onto his back, straddling him and taking off my bra. I want him to see me, all of me. I'm not hiding anything from him anymore. I'm all his.

He soaks me in, his eyes and hands roving all over my body, whispering that I'm beautiful. I bring my mouth down to his, and I make love to him with my heart open wide, showing him how beautiful he is to me.

**XXX**

Edward's birthday weekend turned out even better than I could have ever hoped. He was much happier that I let him drive us back to his apartment this morning, though it could have had something to do with the fact that he got lucky three times. We spent the day cooking together, and even though he teased me about feeling like an old married couple, he seemed to really enjoy it. Emmett, Rosalie, Alice and Jasper joined us for dinner, and the night was filled with chaos, bantering and fun. I tried to convince Edward to call in sick tomorrow, since it was his official birthday and all, but of course, Dr. Responsible would _never_ do something like that.

Now everyone's gone home, his kitchen is cleared, and his freezer is stocked with enough leftovers to keep him fed for weeks, even after Emmett packed his own doggie-bag.

"Just stay over," he pleads, his arms wrapped around me as I try to leave.

"You know I can't. I have to be at the hospital early to meet my doctor for rounds on Monday mornings."

"You were the one who wanted me to call in tomorrow. Why don't you?"

"I would have if you agreed to," I counter.

Edward groans in defeat. "Fine, fine." He dips down to kiss me. "Thank you for this weekend. This has been best birthday ever."

Saying goodnight is bittersweet, and I'm so sad that the weekend is over. I'm even sadder that my brain is now left to its own devices without any distractions, and I know where that's leading.

**XXX**

It's 2:32 a.m.

Why am I awake?

Why hasn't my brain gotten the memo that the rest of the body wants to sleep?

I've been up for the past hour and a half, tossing and turning, shooting hostile glares at my clock every fifteen minutes.

_My brain needs a mute button._

It won't stop. I keep ruminating over the fact that all my well-thought-out plans to stay in New York weren't so well-thought-out after all.

I never took into account that finding a job could take some time. Or that life would continuously fuck with me.

I finally accept that I need to do something to clear my head. The next thing I know, my light is on, and I'm rummaging through my night table drawer until I find what I'm looking for.

The list. The pros and cons I had written out when I was making my original decision.

I read it again, reviewing the reasons listed under my "New York" column, and realize that several important factors had changed. So I do the only rational thing that I could come up with at 2:39 a.m.

I turn the paper over, pull a pen out of the drawer and start making a new list.

**XXX**

"Want to go get some Italian ice?" Edward asks.

It's Tuesday night, and we're lying on his couch, watching the Yankees game. Well, Edward is.

"If you want it," I say with a shrug.

"If _I_ want it?" He pauses the TV and sits up. "All right, what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," I insist, folding my arms across my chest.

"You're a shitty liar, Swan."

I scowl at him. "I am not."

_I so totally am._

"You beg me to take you for Italian ice every time you come out here. You barely ate dinner. And you're too quiet."

I feel like a guilty little shit. I've been obsessing for two days now, trying to figure out how to make things work out, and debating whether or not to discuss it with Edward.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask playfully, trying to lighten up.

His eyebrows rise as he glances down at me skeptically. "With you it usually is."

I roll my eyes. "Well, if the silence is killing you, we could always discuss the meaning of life. You start."

"How about you just let me in on whatever conversation you've already got going on in that crazy head of yours?"

My shoulders drop, and I side-eye him as my nerves kick in. I swallow thickly, pulling up those big-girl undies again. It's no use hiding things from him at this point. "You really wanna go there?"

"Try me," he challenges, one corner of his lips turning up in that irresistible way that makes me reflexively lick mine. "I have a full stomach and coffee in my system."

And this would be so much easier to talk about with some alcohol in mine.

I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around my legs, tucking them into my chest. "I haven't gotten a single reply to any of my resumes," I say quietly. "I got such a late start, and now I have no idea how long it's going to take me to find a job."

"You know something is going to come through. It just takes some time," he assures me.

"That's the problem…I don't have that much time, Edward. I graduate next week, and I'm going to be out of money in a month."

"Have some faith, okay? That means you have at least another whole month to find something."

My eyes drift down to my feet. "But that's the thing. If I don't, I'm totally screwed. At least Alice is going to be able to work at her old job until she lands a position." I finally glance back up at him. "And that's another thing. Apparently Jasper asked her to move in with him, and she won't because she's already promised to live with me."

His brows pull together as he searches my face. My already agitated nerves flare under his scrutiny. I wait for him to say something, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

You'd think with all the practice I'd been getting with difficult conversations lately, I'd be more comfortable with this.

_Ha._

I gather every last bit of courage I can muster before I continue. "See, when I first made the decision to stay here, I thought I had everything sorted out. I was going to keep the apartment with Alice, which I knew I could afford as long as I had a job."

He watches me intently, his expression heavy and his jaw tight. I trace the angle of his jaw, using my thumb to caress his tense, well-defined masseter muscle. I want to get rid of the strain that's building by the minute, but his face remains guarded.

"I didn't take into consideration that it would take me more than a few weeks to find a position. And I didn't expect Jasper to ask Alice to live with him." Even though it made total sense. Alice spent almost all of her time at his place as it was, and it really was ridiculous for her to be paying all this money to rent a place she rarely even slept at.

"Bella, I've said this before. You can't make a decision based on what other people want. What do _you _want?"

My heart actually aches. The pressure in my chest is almost oppressive, and I can't help but wonder if this is what angina feels like.

"I _want_ to stay in New York. And I _want_ you." So badly. More than anything else, I need him to understand that.

The way his eyes soften with relief makes me swoon a little. I see he wants this too, and I'm desperately hoping he wants it as much as I do. I ignore the urge to crawl into his lap and assault him, because I'll never finish this conversation if I do.

"But I also want to stay here knowing I can support myself, without keeping Alice living with me just because she feels like she has to. I want to have a job I can love, not the first one I have to settle for. And I want to be able to help my best friend with her wedding." I watch as he processes everything I just spewed at him, sucking down a lungful of fresh air.

"You want to go back to Forks," he states flatly, his face unreadable.

"_No!_" I immediately correct him. "I want to stay _here_. But I think that going back there, at least for a little while, is the most logical solution I can come up with." My voice is too low, too strained. I hate that I sound as pitiful as I feel. I swallow down the tightness in my throat, making every effort to keep my emotions in check. "There's a job for me there, and if I live with my parents, I can save up enough money to afford an apartment on my own here. Plus, I'll be able to wait for a position I really want here as well.

"It's just that I know most of the reasons I want to stay in New York will be able to wait a few months, until the timing is better. Only, well…" I maintain eye contact, hesitating for a moment to choose my words carefully. I hate, hate, _hate_ these grown up discussions. "Only I don't want to risk losing you."

Edward's face relaxes, and his shoulders drop as he lets out an exaggerated breath. I still can't read him, and I wonder if I've revealed too much. But it's too late. I'm going for broke. "I need you to talk to me about this, Edward. I hate the idea of being away from you at all, but I know I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make the long distance thing work, and it really would only be temporary. I'm sure I could even come visit, if you wanted…"

Edward abruptly grabs my face and kisses me, effectively shutting me up. I clutch at him almost desperately, praying this is a good sign. He keeps my face in his hands, gazing at me with such a scorching intensity it makes me forget to breathe.

"You couldn't lose me if you tried."

_Really?_

I'm searching his eyes, looking for something…something that reflects the way I feel about him. Is he really willing to wait for me? I've done the long distance thing, and it royally sucks. And even then, we were able to see each other almost every weekend. If I went back to Forks, it could easily be months before I could see him again.

He sighs softly, looking at me with such…_tenderness_. Suddenly I'm feeling overwhelmed with a surge of emotion, and I feel ridiculous as my eyes start to mist over.

I'm due for my period soon. It's just hormones. Stupid girly hormones.

"It's okay. It's just geography," he says, running his fingers through my hair. "What kind of guy would I be to let a few trivial miles come between me and the girl I love?"

_Wait, what?_

I couldn't have heard that right. Did he…I mean could he really? My heart is thumping away with hope that I heard what I think I just heard, but it would be so very awkward if I was wrong…

"I'm crazy about you, Bella," he says, as if he reads the doubt all over my face. "And if you have to go back for a while, I can deal with that. What I feel for you isn't going change with any amount of distance between us. This is something worth waiting for."

Without a second thought, I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face into his shoulder, swallowing back the huge lump in my throat. "Say it again," I beg, the words muffled by his skin.

He kisses my ear, his breath warming my cheek. "Say what again?"

I can practically hear the smug grin in his voice.

"You know what I want." _Please_. I need to hear it. Those impossibly sappy three words that I'm dying to hear in his honeyed-silk voice.

"That this is something worth waiting for?" he teases.

"_Edward_," I plead.

He pulls back. Just the way he looks at me gellifies my insides. "That I love you? Is that what you want to hear?"

Oh good God. Those words. I'm not a crier, but I could easily break down from sheer happiness right now. I nod frantically as I struggle to keep it together.

His lips brush mine. "I love you, Bella," he whispers into them, stroking the sides of my neck. "You're everything to me."

I press into him, deepening the kiss and pouring my heart and soul into it, trying to convey everything I can't put into words. All this emotion, this need to connect, this overwhelming love I feel for him that words can't give justice.

"Really?"

_Really? That's the best I can come up with?_

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily. I'd fly across the country just for your eggplant parmesan."

I bite at my lip to keep my smile in check. "Yeah?" I ask, craving that reassurance.

He simply nods slowly, rubbing my back.

"But not for my meatloaf?" I quip back with a suggestive lift of my eyebrow.

He licks his lips as his smile broadens. "Bella, nothing could keep me away from your meatloaf."

My heart feels like it's too big for my chest, and I know I'm grinning at him like a happy idiot. "You really mean it? You're okay with this?"

His fingers run through my ponytail. "I've learned that nothing worthwhile comes easily," he says with a pointed look. "You're living proof of that."

It takes me a minute to pick up on his double entendre, but his smug grin gives him away. "You punk," I chastise him with a gentle push.

"You love it." He chuckles, pulling me flush to him as I squirm to get away. "You love _me_."

I stop struggling with a sigh. "Yeah, I do." More than he could ever know.

He dips down and kisses my neck. "Say it. Out loud."

_Flutter, flutter. Flip, flip_. The heart is going haywire. "I love you so much, Edward," I murmur in his ear. _Damn,_ it feels good to admit it.

His arms instantly tighten around me as he buries his face in my neck. I let myself melt into him like ice cream on a warm brownie.

We remain that way for a while, neither of us willing to move a millimeter, trying to savor and preserve the moment. Eventually, Edward draws back and looks at me. "What if you didn't have to worry about paying rent while you looked for a job?"

My eyes narrow in question.

"Maybe you have other options. An option that would allow you to stay in New York, let Alice move in with Jasper, take the monetary pressure of rent off of you, and allow you to wait for the right job."

I sort through his words, but they don't make sense. "That sounds almost too good to be true. But how? I've dissected every available option for days, Edward."

His green eyes roam my face, and his expression confuses me. He almost looks uncertain, or…nervous?

"Well, there is one you may not have thought of." He pauses a moment, and my insides tighten and flutter as I wonder where he's going. "You could move in here. With me."

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><p><strong>AN:**

**So curious to know what you guys would do in this situation. Here...offering a pint of Ben & Jerry's to think it over ;)**

**So much love and thanks to Prettyflour, NKubie, Twilover76, Twilly, NuttyGinger, Iambeagle and my beta mc101180 for all their help. I'm lost without these fuckawesome gals.**

**And of course, love to Pennyloafer and Beccagold.**

**While I'm gushing my sap, thank you to you wonderful peeps in fanficland for your support and amazing patience. **

**xoxo**


	28. Chapter 28

**SM owns Twilight, but Bella's theories are all mine.**

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><p>"<em>Well, there is one you may not have thought of." He pauses a moment, and my insides tighten and flutter as I wonder where he's going. "You could move in here. With me."<em>

**Chapter 28**

I shouldn't be as surprised as I am, but I can't help it.

Not that I hadn't thought about it; quite the contrary. I thought about it almost every time one of us had to go home. I understood that unquenchable desire to be with someone, which was one of the reasons I didn't want to get in the way of Alice and Jasper living together.

Only it was different with them. They've been friends since school started two years ago. With the way their relationship had progressed quickly, it was a natural next step. But I've only been dating Edward for two months. This wasn't a natural progression—this was Edward trying to efficiently solve a problem.

I run my fingers along his now scratchy jawline, kissing him softly because I need to. "Why do you have to be so perfect?" I whisper. _Why do you have to make me love you even more?_

He tightens his hold, dropping another sweet peck on my lips. "Is that a yes?"

I hesitate, struggling to find the right words…And failing miserably.

He pulls back, eyes questioning as they scan my face. I start to chew at my lip under his scrutiny as I watch realization creep across his beautiful features.

He reads me too well. I hate it as much as I love it.

The die-hard romantic side of me—the side that believes in soul mates and reads fanfiction for happily-ever-afters—is all starry-eyed, already adding feminine touches to his apartment and thinking about all the many ways I want to "christen" his beautiful, neglected kitchen. But the practical, responsible side of me is pushing the other out of the way. It's the side of me that couldn't stand not being an equal contributor in a relationship and would feel like a freeloader. It's the part that reminds me I never wanted to live with someone without some kind of "official" commitment.

It's the same side of me that hopes for peace between him and Charlie and knows deep down that shacking up with Edward this early in the game is not the right way to accomplish it, no matter how altruistic and generous his intentions are.

"You have no idea how wonderful that offer sounds to me," I hedge softly. Not having to say goodbye? Waking up next to him every morning? Good God, I want it so badly. "But…this isn't the way I want that to happen." I hold my breath, not sure how I expect him to react, but he doesn't look surprised. His expression is frustratingly neutral but definitely accepting, and he just gives a solitary nod in response.

"You know, I have this theory that the easiest solution isn't the right solution," I begin cautiously, hoping to make him understand my rationale. "That sometimes, what seems like the path of least resistance at the time makes things harder in the long run. Sort of like using duct tape to fix a leaky pipe. Even though it temporarily stops the leak, it doesn't repair the problem, and just when you think it's going to hold, you have a burst pipe and a flooded bathroom…"

His lip twitches and he tilts his head. He's giving me that "You really are special" look. I hate the way he just sits quietly and gives me enough rope to hang myself.

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best example," I say with a small huff, but then I think of something he can relate to. "It's like how you take the extra time to suture as meticulously as you do. Because there's no reason to do a quick and half-assed job when if you take a few extra minutes to do it the right way, the final result is so much better."

_Good God, I hope I'm making sense._

I can see him taking it all in, processing and dissecting it in his mind.

"You understand, don't you?" My voice sounds almost pleading.

"Yeah, I do," he finally replies, and I can see in his eyes that he really does. I'm sure he doesn't realize all the reasons, but he knows enough. He knows me.

"Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?" I ask, running my fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck.

"Why do I have a feeling this is going to be good?" An amused grin pulls at his lips as he licks them.

Ugh, those damn lips. Is he trying to distract me? "No, I'm serious. Because I really do."

"Well, I believe in choice. I don't accept that our fate is just mapped out for us and that we have no control over what happens to us," Edward replies dryly, his brows pulling together.

"I'm not saying that. It's just that I think certain events happen in our lives for specific reasons, even though we may not know what those reasons are until much later. And in some instances, the true reason may not be for us at all. It's that whole butterfly effect…one thing happens, and it causes a whole chain of events that lead to something much, much more important. Like your accident."  
>He eyes me skeptically, and I'm praying he doesn't think I'm a whackjob. "If you hadn't gotten into that car accident, would you have ended up in New York anyway?"<p>

He considers it for a moment and then shakes his head. "No. I'd originally planned on going to med school in California, either Stanford or University of California. But that wasn't a possibility without a car."

"Exactly. And if you never had that accident, I never would have met you. And that, Dr. Cullen, would have been a tragedy."

His face softens with a glowing smile, and it warms me through and through. "Absolutely."

"That's why I really believe there's a reason for this whole shit storm of events to happen. And as much as I'd love to think that it was all so that I could move in with you, my gut tells me it's not." My eyes cast downward, my fingers toying with his shirt.

I'm praying that though he may not necessarily agree, he at least respects my cockeyed point of view. He sighs and leans in, resting his forehead against mine, and I brush my nose against his. "I want to do things the right way with you, Bella. So I guess we're just going to have to wait and see what that reason is," he concedes, and relief and pure adoration flood through me with his acceptance.

And somehow, in the grand scheme of things, I know I'm doing the right thing. For both of us.

**XXX**

**EPOV**

My pace is brisk as I head over to the residents' lounge for what will be my last night of call for my residency at Queens General, knowing that Bella will be waiting for me. She hasn't visited me on call since she started her Internal Medicine rotation four weeks ago, and I've missed her company terribly.

I'm greeted with the most inviting sight as I open the door. Bella is seated on the couch, and my eyes are instantly drawn to her long, crossed, and bare legs. I'm not used to seeing her in a skirt, and I'm liking it a bit too much.

"Took you long enough."

My lips curl into a grin that matches the mischievous one on her pretty face.

She rises from the couch and greets me with a warm, enthusiastic kiss, wrapping her arms around me and pressing her soft body into mine as she teases my mouth with her talented tongue.  
>This is no sweet kiss hello—this is flat-out, <em>come-and-get-me<em>seduction. My dick is already up for the invitation, but as much as I love her passion and the fire she stokes in me, the last thing I need is to work with blue balls.

_Been there, done that._

I gently bring her hands down to her sides and break the kiss. Her cheeks are flushed, and she's still wearing that devilish grin. "I miss being on call with you," she murmurs, and returns to tormenting me with her lips and tongue. Her hands slip out of my grasp as her mouth distracts me, and I feel them toying with the waistband of my scrubs.

_Fuuuuuuuck…._

"I have a confession to make," Bella whispers hotly into my ear. She drags her lips and teeth along my jaw and throat, drowning me in lust, and gently pulls me toward the on-call room. I'm breathless, trying to keep my head straight, but she's challenging every ounce of control I have.

"Hmmm?" I ask, curious but distracted as she gently nips at my neck.

"All that time we were on call together, I just wanted to molest you," she says with a provocative lift of her brow. "I'm ashamed to admit all of the things I wanted to do to you."

My whole body heats up as my imagination runs wild, carnal desire betraying common sense. I want to spank her for teasing me like this when she knows I can't do anything about it. "You're going to have to tell me all about it someday. When I'm not _working_."

"I'd much rather show you," she teases, before she breaks away and slips inside the small call room, peering coyly over her shoulder as the heavy door closes behind her.

_Oh, for chrissakes…._

"Bella," I call firmly through the door, refusing to go in after her. It opens, but only just enough for her skirt to fly out before closing again.

Fucking hell. I'm going to kill her.

"Come on, this isn't fair," I practically groan. "You know I can't do this. I could get paged at any time." The door opens again, and this time her shirt is discarded. I scrub at my face and claw at my hair as I pick up her abandoned clothing. I can't be doing this.

_I really, really can't._

She peeks her head out again and tosses a pink bra at my chest.

_Fuck it!_

My resolve snaps, and I throw the door open. A triumphant and virtually bare Bella pounces immediately, pressing me into the wall and pulling at the tie of my scrub pants, kissing me hungrily.

Any fears of being paged are pushed into the recesses of my brain, since my dick is making all the decisions from here. Her mouth and body feel too fucking amazing, and I've wanted this for too long—I'll take my chances.

All those nights she tormented me on call with inviting glances and heated kisses that had me starving for more of what I couldn't have.

All those times I had to be the responsible one and put on the brakes.

All those times I wanted to follow her into her call room. All the ways I imagined taking her.

_It's payback time, baby._

I flip our positions, trapping her against the wall as I push down her underwear. Once she's managed to step out of them, I let my scrubs pool around my feet, slipping my fingers between her thighs and moaning into her mouth when I feel how slick and ready she is. I lift her legs, wrapping them around me as I support her body and sink myself into her.

Best. Feeling. Ever.

"God, yes," she whimpers, dropping her head into my neck, clinging to me as I fervently move in and out of her. And fuck, she feels so good. She's wild and raw, clawing at my back, sinking her teeth into my shoulder to muffle her cries, showing me how much she's wanted this, too.

"Harder," she pants. "More." _Yessssssss_. I pick up the pace, losing myself in her flesh, the pleasure escalating at a dangerous and exponential pace. She lifts her head to meet my eyes, and the way she looks at me almost does me in. My girl is gorgeous. Sculpted cheekbones heated and flushed, lush lips swollen from my kiss, and rich, hooded eyes filled with passion, but so much more.

Trust.

_Love._

I have to kiss her, the need to be completely connected with her overwhelming me.

But then...

"_Fuck_!" I practically growl, and I freeze, my head dropping backward as I try to contain the frustration exploding within as the exasperating sound assaults my ears. I have to suppress the urge to bury my fist in the wall.

Yet Bella is unfazed. "Ignore it," she says breathlessly, pivoting her hips into me.

But I just can't, not now. I'm summoning the will to disengage myself, but she just tightens her legs, keeping me in place like a vise grip. "I said ignore it. It's just Emmett being an ass."

"What?" I'm confused. There's not enough blood flow to my brain to make sense of it all.

"I bribed him. He's covering your call until seven," she mutters hurriedly, returning her lips to mine.

I pull my head back with a grin. "I fucking love you, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do." She beams back at me, squeezing me with her arms, her legs, and her incredible pelvic walls. "Now stop wasting time and show me."

_My pleasure._

"Hold on." She lets out a squeal as I lift her away from the hard wall and carry her to the bed. If I have another hour, I'm taking full advantage of every minute and showing her just how much I love her and how many wonderfully depraved ways I can do it.

**XXX**

We lay there in the seclusion of the call room, our bodies sated and basking in an epic and exhausted post-coital high. I run my fingers through Bella's hair, hearing her moan at my ministrations. Her feet run patterns up and down my shins.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Mmm, just don't stop," she purrs.

I can't help but smile and tighten my hold on her. "So, how did you manage to bribe Emmett to cover call?"

"Emmett? Oh, I promised him pot roast and chocolate chip cookies. He's really too easy. I was expecting at least somewhat of a battle, but he was a complete lay-down at the mention of the cookies."

She'd asked him to cover call so we could supposedly have dinner out somewhere in peace—not that we actually made it to dinner yet. I have a feeling he knew damn well we weren't going out anywhere, and I fully intended to thank the fucker properly for his little interruption next time we're at the gym.

My stomach lets out an obnoxious rumble, causing my girl to giggle.

"You seem to have a monster in your belly. There's dinner in the lounge refrigerator. Do you want to grab it? There's something naughty about eating in bed, even if it is just an on-call cot."

"Tell me you have cookies in there, too."

She rolls her eyes with a playful grin. "Why don't you go find out?"

I jump out of the bed, bare-assed, practically tripping over myself to get my scrub pants on quickly. Bella calls out for me to bring some back to her, but just as I'm pulling a goldmine of cookies and what looks like some kind of quiche out of the fridge, my pager sounds off again, and my heart sinks a little knowing this time it's not Emmett.

**XXX**

It's not a busy night, and after the first page to the ER for what turns out to be a ruptured ovarian cyst, I enjoy some quality time with Bella. We leisurely enjoy her chocolate chip cookies at Starbucks after the delicious vegetable and Swiss quiche she made for dinner.

I eventually do get one more call to L&D around ten o'clock, and I'm disappointed that our night has to end...until she assures me she's not going home tonight. And somehow, it's just what I need to hear. It allows me to savor every detail of what will likely be my last delivery and say goodbye to this chapter of my life, knowing something so much bigger is just beginning and waiting for me in the call room.

When I finally return, I find Bella reading in bed. She welcomes me with sleepy eyes and a smile that warms me from within, and she turns down the blanket next to her.

Wordlessly, I shut the light and peel off my scrub top as she puts away her book, and I climb under the covers to join her. She wriggles around until she finds "her spot," tucking her head into the crook of my neck and curling her body around mine into the groove she seems to have carved into my body for herself. I bury my nose in her hair as I wrap around her, submerging myself in pure comfort. Neither of us can move an inch in the cramped confines of the twin cot intended for one. It's perfect.  
>It's so clear to me that this is what I want every night. I want to end each day coming home to Bella and start my day waking up with her. And that's what will keep me going when we're apart. Knowing that someday, this is what my days will end with—even if I have to wait a while for it.<p>

She's worth it.

Bella has made everything that's happened in my life make sense and fit together. Deciding to go to New York, my career choice, and even my accident all somehow led me to this amazing woman who seems to have been created to be my other half.

"So, when are your parents coming in for graduation?" I ask, trying to keep her awake a little longer.

"Friday." Her tone says it's something she isn't looking forward to, and I know it's because of me. I can't allow that.

"Hey," I murmur, lifting her face to look at me. "I'm looking forward to meeting them," I assure her, ignoring the uneasy flutter in my gut at the thought of it.

Her eyes narrow. "Oh, I'm sure you are."

"I am," I insist with a light chuckle, enjoying the feel of her hair slipping through my fingers.

"They're going to have to get to know me sooner or later."

Bella catches her lip between her teeth, as if to contain the smile that blooms across her perfect mouth. "Oh really? I'm warning you right now, that voodoo-sex-god thing you've got going on isn't going to work all that well on my dad."

_Voodoo-sex-what?_

I laugh out loud. Oh, my girl. My beautiful, crazy girl. "Well, I'll just have to work a little harder, then." _Gross understatement._

"I have all the faith in the world in you," she whispers with a kiss. I wish I knew what I ever did to deserve her blind confidence, but I'm so grateful for it. It means everything to me. "And I can't wait to show my father what an upstanding citizen the derelict he used to know has turned into."

_More like the grown-up derelict who's stealing his daughter. _Meeting the parents of the woman you love will be nerve-wracking enough as it is, but adding a police badge and my history with the chief takes it to a whole new level. Now I'm almost grateful that Bella declined my offer to live with me, because I'm certain that wouldn't earn me any points with him. I don't even realize I'm gritting my teeth until Bella's fingertips gingerly stroke my tense jaw.

"Edward, my dad's a good man. Overbearing and overprotective, but still a good guy."

"I know." I breathe her in, letting her ground me. "When are you going back with them?"

"Monday." I can hear the sadness in in her voice, and it makes me wish I could pause time.

Time is such a motherfucker. But I can still buy a little more of it.

"Good to know, because I'll be joining you. I want you to get to know my parents, too."

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><p><strong>AN: Endless thanks to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour, NKubie, Twilover76, Twilly, Nuttyginger, and beta extraordinaire mcc101180. Without them, this story would never get done.**

**And always, thanks to you lovely, lovely peeps in fanficland. I appreciate you guys more than you could ever know :)**


	29. Chapter 29

*****Sheepishly waving hello*****

I'm not even going to try to make any excuses for my lame ass. But if you're still here, thankyouthankyouthankyou. SM may own the characters, but you lovely people own me.

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><p><strong>Chapter 29<strong>

"Come on, Bella. Just one more. Trust me, you need it," Alice quips with a sly grin, grabbing my classy plastic cup to refill it with another mimosa. I'm about to decline, but I just go with it, knowing my nerves are fried and I'll take any little bit of help I can get.

Alice brought up the genius idea of a celebratory "pre-graduation brunch," and a bunch of us brought juice, cheap champagne, bagels, and other goodies to share at the university before being subjected to boorish commencement speeches. We'd all agreed that a little bubbly would make it more tolerable. Maybe even a little entertaining.

But I'm downing my third drink because I need to calm the crazy jitters plaguing my stomach. The fact that I'm finally graduating and they're letting me loose in the real world has nothing to do with the gnawing ache in my gut.

In fact, I'm rather proud of myself for surviving the past two years of insane pressure and grueling clinical hours. I'd made it through 2,000 hours of classes my first year, and forty to one hundred hour workweeks of clinical rotations the second year. I assisted in surgeries, diagnosed and treated patients from birth to age ninety-three. I met the tooth fairy and Jesus. I sutured a drunk man who split his head open and took care of a diabetic after he'd had three of his toes amputated. I assisted during a bone marrow biopsy of a brave nine-year-old boy with leukemia and held his hand during his chemo treatments. I consoled an eighty-seven-year-old man in the ER whose wife of fifty-five years had just suffered a major stroke. I delivered babies.

And somehow, in all that chaos, I managed to meet a pretty, green-eyed jackass who turned out to be a prince.

So, why, after everything I'd done, was I teetering on the edge of a panic attack because aforementioned prince would be meeting my parents today?

Of course I know I'm being ridiculous. And I am fully aware that my neurotic brain is blowing this up to be far worse than it could ever be. But my twisted-up insides and shaky hands are not responsive to rational thought. So I suck down another mimosa, hoping to get through this day unscathed.

**XXX**

_I like big butts and I cannot lie_

_You other brothers can't deny_

_That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist_

_And a round thing in your face_

_You get sprung_

Good God, _why_? I'm sitting with my graduating class through our Dean's long-winded speech, and while he's talking about professionalism, and how we are the proud future of quality health care, I'm channeling Sir Mix-A-Lot?

_Oh, baby I wanna get with ya_

_And take your picture_

_My homeboys tried to warn me_

_But that butt you got_

_Make me so horny_

I have not been able to get this damn song out of my head all day. It's not like I've even heard it recently. It just popped into my fucking head this morning in the shower, took up residence, and has been torturing me ever since. But I have a working theory that this whole "ear worm" phenomena is some protective mechanism in the brain to intentionally distract us from stressful or unpleasant thoughts. It's quite possible that this stupid song is the only thing keeping me off the proverbial ledge.

With the help of three tasty mimosas, of course.

The unexpected vibration of my phone makes me jump, and I ignore Bree Tanner's snicker as I glance at the message.

**Why the fuck are you doing the shoulder shuffle?**

Oh, for the love of...Please tell me I wasn't.

I glare over at Alice, who is two rows ahead of me since we are seated in alphabetical order. She's looking right back at me with a twisted grin, and I just reach up and scratch the side of my nose with my middle finger.

_Because Baby's got back_

I continue to text her lyrics until I'm confident that she has the old-school anthem to big booties infecting her bitchy little brain as well.

We continue texting back and forth, and I'm grateful for the distraction until she starts getting all preachy on me.

**You should have let Edward come.**

I scowl as my thumbs scurry across the keys with my answer. _And have the poor guy stuck sitting with my parents the whole time bored out of his skull? NFW._

I knew when Renee asked if Edward would be coming to graduation it would be a bad idea, so I immediately told her he couldn't make it. There's no way I could put him through that.

My phone buzzes again as we are lined up to receive our diplomas. I take a subtle peek and see it's from Edward.

**What color panties are under that gown, Swan?**

His timing is impeccable. My teeth clamp down on my lower lip as it curls into a wide grin, and part of me wishes he were here to see it.

_You'll find out later._

**You bet your pretty ass I will.**

I snort out loud at that. Such a total ass man.

_My anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns, hon!_

Sigh. I really do amuse the hell out of myself.

I watch with a touch of sentimental pride as Alice and my other classmates take their hard-earned diplomas from the stage. There's a twinge of sadness as the awareness hits me that today will likely be the last time I see most of them, though I know I'll keep in touch with the ones who count. I look behind me and exchange a knowing smile with Jasper. I can't imagine not having him and Alice in my life.

When they finally call my name, my heart rate picks up as I walk across the stage in front of the jam-packed auditorium. It shouldn't even surprise me when the sole of my flat catches awkwardly on the polished wood floor. I falter slightly, though somehow manage to regain my footing before losing balance and face-planting in front of everyone.

_Only you, Swan!_

Now not only are my hands trembling from just baseline nerves, but my whole body is shaking with embarrassment. I'm a lovely shade of tomato as I walk across the rest of the stage, sheepishly thanking my program director and accepting my diploma with a handshake. At least his warm smile consoles me. "It's been a real pleasure to have you, Bella. You're going to be a great asset to the profession."

I beam back at him with shy gratitude. This is really happening. This is officially the end of my academic life and the start of being a real-life PA with the ability to fuck up unsupervised. It's equally exciting and terrifying.

As I make my way off the stage without further incident, my cell vibrates yet again. What the hell could Alice want now? I pull it out of my pocket, and much to my surprise, it's Edward.

**Aren't swans supposed to be graceful?**

His words don't make any sense, unless...but...he isn't, right? Instantly my eyes start scanning the audience, my heart picking up speed as I search fruitlessly for him, only to be ushered along with the procession of graduates as we are herded outside when the ceremony ends.

As I search for my parents, a familiar head of hair catches my eye, standing a few inches above the general crowd. My heart races with giddiness as I push my way past various anonymous bodies, until I'm standing right in front of him. His smile mirrors mine, and I can tell how pleased he is with himself for surprising me. "What are you doing here?"

He lets out a snort. "Did you really think I would miss this?"

I can't seem to find an intelligible response, so I just stand there, grinning like a loon in spite of myself. That is, until a familiar voice pulls me out of my lovesick daze, and I peek over Edward's shoulder to find Renee rapidly approaching with Charlie close behind.

Edward clears his throat and steps back as she accosts me with open arms. "My baby's a doctor!" she gushes, crushing the air out of my lungs.

"I told you, Mom. I'm a physician assistant, not a doctor," I correct her, failing to conceal my embarrassment.

"Pshhht, semantics," she brushes off breezily, giving me another squeeze for good measure. She pulls back with a wide grin and looks over my shoulder. "And you must be Edward."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, extending his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Swan."

Oh, good God. This is really happening.

"Ugh, no need to be so formal. Please, call me Renee." She's smiling ear to ear as she takes his hand, glancing back and forth between the two of us and making me squirm. Taking that as my cue, I turn to my dad and hug him.

"Congratulations, kiddo. I'm proud of you," he says simply, making my heart swell. All at once, I'm twelve years old again, basking in my father's coveted praise.

"Thanks, Dad," I whisper, holding on a beat longer before releasing him for the inevitable. "So, um..." I mentally adjust the BG panties. "I think you may have already met Edward Cullen."

They exchange a firm, manly handshake. "Good to see you, sir."

Charlie replies with a nod. "Likewise."

What follows is this awkward moment where no one says anything, and my insides twist as I try to get a read off my dad. This is when I notice how starched and sparkly-clean Edward looks—clean shaven, hair somehow coerced into conservative submission, pressed blue dress shirt tucked into belted khaki slacks. He looks like he's ready for a catalogue shoot.

Or an interview.

"You look so much like your father," Renee interjects, breaking the silence. "Don't you think, Charlie? It's uncanny."

Charlie agrees with something akin to a disinterested "Hmm."

I suck in a deep breath. Here we go.

**XXX**

My parents want to take us out for a post-celebratory dinner, so I decide on a non-pretentious steak house not too far from my apartment. I know Charlie loves a good slab of beef and figure anything that would keep him happy is best for all of us. Edward insists on driving, and he picks the three of us up at my apartment around 6:30 p.m. The ride to the restaurant would have been unnervingly quiet if not for Renee's insistent rambling. About how nice the weather is here. And how fast-paced it is and how many people there are. In contrast, Charlie is expectedly stoic, silent except for a stray comment about how much traffic there is on the island. Edward drives with his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, and it's odd seeing him so..._stiff. _I catch him glancing in the rearview mirror with that familiar tic in his clean-shaven jaw, and my hand goes to his knee. I stroke it with my thumb, offering him a reassuring smile. My body relaxes a little when his face softens and the corner of his lip lifts.

When we arrive at the restaurant, Edward excuses himself to use the restroom while we wait for a table. As soon as he is out of sight, I immediately turn to Charlie.

"Please be nice, Dad," I plead with my best puppy dog eyes. "He's important to me." He just quirks his brow in response.

"I'm always nice," he states dryly.

I grimace, and Renee smoothes his shirt casually, kissing him lightly. "Of course you are, dear. But maybe for Bella's sake, today you can be _extra _nice."

Charlie lets out a low huff, using his finger to draw an imaginary halo around his head.

Once we are finally seated, my mother continues with the light, harmless chatter about how excited she is to spend two days in Manhattan and how she's always wanted to go there. She grills Edward for recommendations on what to do and what to see. "I don't want to do any of the 'touristy' crap," she explains. "I want to get a taste of the real New York City." I know she's doing this because silence is uncomfortable for her. Even though there was a time when this annoyed me to no end, it's oddly comforting now.

I appreciate her even more when she asks the waiter what beers they have on tap. She nudges Charlie when they mention his beloved Guinness, and when he shakes his head to decline, she orders him a pint anyway, giving him a knowing smile. She casually orders herself a mojito and shimmies giddily once the waiter leaves. "I always wanted to try one of those," she whispers into my ear. "And don't worry about your father. I've got your back."

It's weird to see my mother order an alcoholic beverage. When we would go out to dinner, Charlie would occasionally order a beer, usually Guinness; but other than her traditional glass of Asti Spumanti on New Year's Eve, I never see her drink. Charlie gives her the same odd look that I do, but she leans in and whispers something in his ear. He subtly waggles his eyebrows in response.

And suddenly I am completely and utterly disturbed. I don't even want to know.

It's at that moment that I decide to order a glass of wine. I need something to take the edge off. My heart sinks when poor Edward orders seltzer. He needs a drink more than anyone, but I'm proud that he doesn't order one. I know I'm not the only one to take notice. My foot hooks around his the way he so often does to me, and he gives my knee a gentle squeeze under the table.

"So, Bella tells us you're starting another internship? Does that mean you're not going to be an Ob/Gyn?" Renee asks Edward, taking another sip of her rapidly disappearing mojito.

He nods and doesn't correct her that it isn't really an internship. "I'm specializing in Gynecologic Oncology."

"Just as well," my dad interjects. "I always wondered what kind of man would want to make a career out of looking at women's privates all day, anyway."

My jaw drops loose, and I shoot a death glare at him. "What, as opposed to doing hernia and prostate exams all day?"

Edward just chuckles. "You know, I think Bella may have asked me that very question."

Now my head quickly darts back to Edward. I'm about to protest, until my memory kicks in and I realize that yeah, I pretty much did.

Renee snorts out loud as she finishes her drink. Even Charlie seems to find this way too amusing.

_Mutiny. It's goddamn mutiny._

"But in all honesty, I think most of us become Ob/Gyns because we love to deliver babies. It's got to be the most incredible experience I've ever been a part of."

I smile sweetly and look at Charlie. _Yeah. Take that. _

"Does that mean you won't be doing deliveries anymore?"

Edward nods wistfully. "I'm really going to miss it. Not the calls at all hours of the night, but definitely the deliveries."

The next thing I know, Renee is talking about how difficult it was to deliver me. I make several attempts to derail her, but she's in the zone. "Fourteen hours of damn labor..." _blah, blah, blah, _"_..._And the worst pain I've ever experienced. I'm telling you, Swans have the hugest heads. She damn near cracked me in half. Even the doctor said she was like a monster truck coming out of a one-car garage."

I'm not even listening anymore. I'm too busy praying for a cataclysmic event that will save me from death by sheer mortification. If Edward is still speaking to me by the end of this it, will be a miracle.

Thankfully the waiter finally saves me, and our food arrives in time to put an end to the torturous conversation. I decide to order another glass of wine when Renee orders a second mojito.

The food smells heavenly, and I'm ever-so-grateful for the distraction. My steak looks mouthwatering, and it's a bit larger than I expected. I neatly cut off a large piece of it, trimming any traces of fat away before placing it on Edward's plate, making sure it doesn't touch his fish. I notice his ears flood with pink as he smiles and thanks me, and I watch as he casts a quick sheepish glance over to my father.

_Oh no_, did I just embarrass him in front of Charlie? Did I just cause some kind of faux pas and compromise his masculinity or something? I stare down at my plate and berate myself for not thinking first, only to see a piece of Edward's fish being carefully placed onto it. I release my lip from my teeth and glance back at him with a grateful smile, and Edward grins back at me just before he cuts into his piece of steak.

Good God, do I love this man.

I take a small bite of the miso glazed salmon, trying to keep an open mind. It isn't bad. The glaze is tasty, but I liked the flavor of the grouper much more.

"Good God. I think Hell just froze over."

I roll my eyes and glare at my mother. "What?" she asks innocently. "I just can't believe I'm watching my own daughter eat fish!"

"Well, maybe because I know Edward wouldn't give me fish that _squeaks _when you chew it."

Charlie lets out a strange snort-like noise and covers it with a cough. Renee turns her confused expression to him, and he conceals his mouth with a napkin as he composes himself.

"What is she talking about?" she mutters to my dad, tightly knitting her brows.

"Nothing, honey. Bella was just never a big fan of the kind of fish I caught." She eyes the both of us dubiously but seems placated by his answer, and when she returns her attention back to her food, he shoots me a chastising glare and takes a sip of his beer to hide the knowing smirk he's been fighting.

I relish the peaceful silence for a few minutes while we are all occupied with our meals. The subtle undercurrent of tension lingers, and my mind seems determined to ignore it by singing along with Sir Mix-A-Lot, my foot in cahoots, shaking to the beat in my head.

**XXX**

I have developed a whole new level of respect for Edward. Maybe it comes from his medical experience, but he's performed amazingly well under pressure. I, however, am falling to pieces and counting down the minutes until this is over. All this time I was so worried about Charlie, but he's been perfectly well behaved, if not a little aloof. My mother was never even on my radar.

When the waiter comes and asks if anyone would like to order dessert just as Renee is questioning Edward about menopausal symptoms, I immediately tell him "No thank you," and ask for the check. But noooo, Mom just has to ask for the dessert menu, and Charlie does nothing to stop her.

"So anyway," she continues, "The hysterectomy totally wreaked havoc on my sex drive for a while. Is that common?"

"Dammit, Mom!" I finally snap. "Will you leave the poor guy alone?"

"Oh, please, he's a doctor. You don't mind, do you, Edward?"

Of course Edward smiles good-naturedly. "Not at all. I discuss this kind of thing all the time."

"Well, I mind! You're my mother for Christ's sake! You aren't supposed to even _have_ a sex drive! And I still hold on to the belief that I was dropped on your doorstep by a humongous stork!"

Charlie guffaws loudly. As little as he's contributed to conversation, he's obviously enjoying the whole show. But Mom isn't even remotely fazed. "Well, it doesn't matter now anyway. Everything is more than back on track since I started reading that new book. I'm completely blanking out on the name of it..._100 Shades of _somethingoranother?"

Charlie's guilty pinked cheeks send me over the edge. My scorching face collapses into my hands as I shake my head side to side. I can't even find words.

"What?" Renee asks. "We read it in Book Club."

Angela's mom is in her book club. The fucking preacher's wife is reading porn with my mother.

And just when I think it can't get any worse, Renee adds, "Seriously, Bella. You should read it. Though by your reaction, I think you already have."

My head shoots upright, eyes wide as saucers, meeting her amused expression and regretfully taking in Charlie's _yes-I-am-judging-you _glare.

I feel Edward's eyes on me, and I can't even look at him. Yet I refuse to let full panic to set in because, yeah, I'm totally guilty as charged—but Hell will freeze over before I fess up to that around anyone at this table. So I pull it together and shoot the evil eye right back at my parents. "Everyone knows about those books, you pervs. And now I'm going to have to bleach my brain thanks to you two."

Charlie just sits back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, grinning ear to ear. "Now you know why your mother never drinks."

**XXX**

Renee seems to have run out of steam, and the drive back to my parents' hotel is significantly quieter. This time, I appreciate the mental break. When we get there, I decline her offer to come back to their room. "I told you that Jasper's having a graduation party tonight, and I have a few things I still need to take care of before we go," I hedge. "Let me walk you in."

Charlie helps my mom out of the car as she steadies herself on wobbly feet. She's cursing her shoes as if it were their fault, not the mojitos she marinated herself in.

"Thank you for letting me join you for dinner." Edward steps out of the car to join us, extending his hand to Charlie. He takes it stiffly as they exchange polite goodbyes. Renee just throws her arms around him and gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're such a sweet boy," she chirps. Edward blushes with a shy grin as he glances over at me.

I pretend not to notice Charlie's eye-roll.

"Yes, you are," I coo, patting his cheek once she releases him. "I'll be right back, okay?" I feel bad leaving him behind, but I need a minute alone with my parents.

He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Take your time. I'll be waiting in the car."

I join them inside the lobby of the Holiday Inn. "Thanks for dinner, guys." _It was only half as bad as I expected._

"Oh, it was our pleasure," my mom answers. "You have yourself a fine young man." She turns to Charlie with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't she, honey?"

He replies with a noncommittal grunt.

"Ignore your father. Hopefully I'll be able to remove the stick from his ass this weekend."

I don't even try to hide my amusement. "You were very nice tonight, Dad. Thank you," I say, hugging him close.

"Anything for you, Bells." He gives me a brief squeeze back before pulling away. "So, we'll see you on Monday, then. Is there anything else you need us to help you take care of?"

"Not really. Edward's helping me with all the last minute stuff. But, umm..." I fight off the sudden nausea that my hammering heart is churning up. "I decided not to go back with you guys on Monday. I'm going to fly back with Edward on Wednesday instead."

Charlie's eyes narrow, and my heart sinks when his expression hardens. "We made all the arrangements ages ago," he states calmly but firmly.

"I know, Dad, and I'm sorry to change plans on you guys last minute. I just want a little more time here, that's all."

Charlie's face conveys everything he isn't saying. Disappointment. Disapproval. And finally, resignation. He looks past me at the exit doors, as if shooting his glare to Edward in the parking lot. "You're a big girl now, Isabella. You can do whatever you want."

Hearing him call me Isabella cuts me more than anything. I can't even remember the last time he called me that. My face falls like a reprimanded child. I almost feel lost.

"Oh, don't mind him, sweetie. He's just got his boxers in a bunch because I'm dragging him through New York City for the next two days. Especially after he found out the ESPN Zone closed."

Charlie's glower redirects to Renee, his mustache twitching as he holds his tongue. She completely ignores him as she smothers me in another hug. "You _are_ a big girl, and we know we raised you right," she says, loud enough for him to hear and presumably more for his benefit than mine.

"Love you, Mom," I say into her hair, and I start to wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing the whole time today.

"Me too, baby." She smiles warmly at me, and then nods her head to my dad, who is thoroughly inspecting his shoes.

I tentatively put my arms around his tense body. "I love you, Dad," I tell him softly, and I feel him let go as he hugs me back. "And I promise to make lasagna as soon as I get home."

He chuckles softly. "Love you too. Better make it two trays, and bring the Crotch Doc with you. He's got a long way to go before I can trust him with my _big_ girl."

_Oh, Dad._

My smile is tender. "Of course."

When I get back to the car, I take a moment to collect myself, letting my body sink into the leather upholstery. It almost feels like I've run a marathon. That's when I realize the blissful silence.

Well I'll be damned. Sir Mix-A-Lot has left the building.

"You okay?" Edward asks, his voice quiet. I turn to him and smile, taking in his beautiful face that's laden with concern. The center console is the only thing preventing me from crawling into his lap and nuzzling into him while I purr.

I reach over and grab his shirt, pulling him close enough to meet his lips. I greedily breathe in his scent, letting it fill my soul and soothe my nerves. It feels like the first real breath I've been able to take all day.

"Yeah, I am now." I run my hands through his unnaturally tamed hair, ruffling it up so he looks more like my Edward again.

I want to apologize for having to put him through that.

I want to reward him in the dirtiest ways possible for being his wonderful, composed self throughout the torture.

But most of all, I just want to be with him—_alone_—now that all of the stressful crap of this day is finally behind me.

I lean in for another kiss, and his hand cups the back of my head, his thumb stroking my cheek while our mouths carry on their own intimate conversation. I feel so contented at this moment. Like everything in the world is right.

I think my heart _is_ purring.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" I sigh.

He beams back at what must be the stupidest dreamy smile on my face. He kisses me softly once more, and then brushes his cheek lovingly against mine. "Are you in a rush to get to Jasper's party?" he murmurs.

"Not at all. I was hoping to just go back to my place and unwind for a while."

"Does unwinding involve nudity?" he asks, flashing that delicious, sinful grin.

_Good God, have I mentioned how I love this man?_

"Absofuckinlutely."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Again, I'm sooo sorry this took so long. Even sorrier that you may now have Baby's Got Back stuck in your head ;)**

**The only reason this chapter finally finished is because of Prettyflour, NKubie, Twilly, Nuttyginger, and my amazing beta, mcc101180. I love these ladies like family.**

**All of my love, as always, to Beccagold and Pennyloafer, who are family.**

**Lastly, I promise I will NOT abandon ToB. EVER. This is my baby, and I will give it the HEA these characters deserve.**

**XOXO**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"Thanks, this really hit the spot," I say as I finish the last spoonful of cremolata Italian ice, licking the sweet, creamy residue off my lips.

Edward made a surprise pit stop for me on the drive back from my apartment. I'd just spent the day with Alice, cleaning out our apartment. He picked me up and brought me back to his place, since I had just sold my Honda Civic yesterday and was now carless.

He smiles softly. "You looked like you needed it."

For some inexplicable reason, his words cause a swelling sensation in my throat, so I divert my eyes downward, offering a weak smile as I rise from the couch to throw away the empty paper container.

I find myself lingering in his kitchen, staring into the empty stainless steel sink. My fingers run along the cool, black granite countertop. I glance around at the maple cabinets and pretty new appliances. I'm going to miss this lonely, neglected kitchen.

I'm so tired all of a sudden. My last few days here in New York flew by so quickly, and I can't believe I'm going to be back in Forks tomorrow. After a mind-numbing day of cleaning and packing, then sharing one last appetizer dinner with Alice, I just feel so drained.

I knew saying goodbye to her would suck, but seeing my ball-busting girl get unexpectedly sentimental and teary-eyed nearly broke me. Given how difficult it was leaving Alice, how the hell am I going to leave Edward behind?

Maybe I made a bad choice. What if I'm making a huge mistake? What if I'm making it impossible to come back? What if going back to Forks costs me Edward?

I'm so consumed by my inner freak-out session that I startle when strong arms and that comforting, soapy-clean scent wrap around me from behind.

"Hey."

My body automatically leans into his. "Hey." My voice sounds small.

"Talk to me."

I shake my head and mutter something about being cranky when I'm tired. There's no way I can admit any of my stupid, neurotic insecurities.

He turns me around, lifting my chin so he can study my face. I don't want him to see me like this—silly and emotional for nothing. So I avoid his gaze, opting to bury my face into the warmth of his chest instead.

He holds me, soothing me as he strokes my back. "C'mon," he murmurs into my hair and then leads me by the hand into his bedroom.

"I wasn't going to give this to you tonight, but I have something for you." He deposits me onto his bed and proceeds to retrieve something from his closet. He emerges holding a book-sized rectangular box, wrapped simply in iridescent blue paper. He sits beside me and places it in my lap.

"You didn't have t—"

He shuts me up with a kiss, and I can feel his grin. "It's a graduation gift. Just open it."

He's smiling like an excited little kid as I carefully remove the wrapping without tearing it, pulling the paper away to expose a smooth white box with a printed picture of an iPad.

I immediately turn to him, surprise shaping my features. He takes the box from me and pulls out the device, turning it on. "I took the liberty of adding a few apps for you," he tells me. "Here's the _Merck Manual_. I use that all the time." He goes on to show me apps for Medscape, Epocrates, American Academy of Pediatrics, and a really cool one for identifying rashes. "And you're familiar with _The Medical Letter_, right? This one is really good." He opens each icon, giving me an enthusiastic tour. He's even downloaded a bunch of music he knows I like. I just nod along, too flabbergasted to form a lucid response.

I can't believe he did all of this.

"But this is the main reason why I got it." He places the iPad back in my lap and kisses me, saying he'll be right back. I watch his exodus in confusion, and he doesn't answer when I ask what he's doing. Barely a minute later, I nearly jump out of my skin when the iPad starts ringing, and a snapshot of Edward's handsome, smiling face fills the screen.

"Edward, what am I supposed to do?" I call out to him.

"Just touch the 'accept' button."

When I do, there he is, with that irresistible lopsided grin staring right back at me in all his fuckhot glory. "Surprise."

"This is so cool!" I gush. I've heard of Skype and other types of video chatting, but I'd never seen it in action. I'm surprised at how good the image quality is.

"Isn't it? I thought this would be perfect for us. It'll make things a little easier while you're away."

My eyes begin to sting and tears start to blur my vision, and the lump in my throat is swelling to epic proportion. I bite down at the inside of my cheek, because I don't want to ruin this by snotsobbing like a psychopath. I hit _end_ before I crumble, abandoning the iPad on the bed as I flee to the bathroom.

Edward heads me off at the pass, intercepting before I make it inside. "Bella," he pleads, cupping my face. "Baby, please talk to me."

"I…I don't want to go," I mumble, so low that I doubt he even heard me and not sure I even want him to.

"Then don't."

Confusion and a touch of shock push my pity party to the back burner. It isn't so much the words as how he says them. Not pleading or demanding. Just blasé and matter-of-fact. Like he's stating that the sky is blue.

I stare blankly, unsure of how to respond, searching his face to decipher his intention. "Edward…"

He just raises his eyebrows. "Bella…" he answers, imitating my whiny tone and causing me to scowl in response.

"You can't just say things like that. You know I don't want to be away from you."

He nods calmly. "I know."

"But…" I don't even know what to say. Is he telling me to stay again? His expression gives away nothing. He's just watching me with an expectant look on his face.

He sweeps a strand of hair away from my face, fingering the ends. "But what?"

I'm suddenly feeling a bit flustered. "I…" I try to organize the bazillion scattered thoughts running amuck in my head. Is it that simple? Could I just follow my heart and stay here with him?

I could just live with Edward…study for my certification boards while I look for a job…I'm sure it wouldn't take all that long, right? Maybe I could find a way to cover expenses to be in Angela's wedding and the traveling back and forth, and maybe I could pay Edward back for rent once I start working…It wouldn't kill me to depend on him, let him take care of me for a while, right?

_Right?_

Then the whole "everything happens for a reason" speech rebounds back in my face. I consider my commitments to not just Angela, but Dr. Simon. And the fact that it would kill any self-respect I have to depend on Edward like that.

I look up to be met with Edward's patient smile. His eyes drift down to the lip I've been unconsciously gnawing on, making me release it.

"I can't." I hear myself say.

"I know."

I grimace and push him. "Then why did you even say anything, you jerk?"

He chuckles. "Because you needed to figure that out for yourself, and you need to trust your own decisions. Why do you think I never give you advice when you ask for it? It's not like you'd listen to me anyway."

I glare at him, even though I wonder if he's right.

He shakes his head at me. "You do realize it won't matter, right?"

I feel the confusion contorting my expression, and I silently implore him to elaborate.

"Bella, even though it's killing me that you're leaving, I also have the foresight to see that whether you stay or go, the end result is the same. We'll still be together."

How does he make it all sound so simple?

"How do you know?" I whisper. "How can you know it will work out?"

"Because I've never been so sure of anything else in my entire life."

My eyes stay fixed on him, taking in the intensity of his expression, desperate to believe him. Why is it so difficult for me to accept that he may want me as much as I want him?

Then I see the way his brilliant green eyes shine at me. That's when I know he does. He really, really does.

The realization pushes me over the edge, and the floodgates break open as everything inside me bubbles over. I throw myself into him, burying my nose in his neck. Soothing fingers stroke my hair while I swallow quiet sobs and bridle my emotions.

Once I've finally pulled myself together and my breathing evens out, the embarrassment floats to the surface. "I'm sorry," I mutter into his chest.

_Stupid, whiny girl. Way to ruin a moment._

He lifts my face again, gently sweeping my tear-blemished cheeks. A bittersweet smile plays across his lips as he gazes down at me. "Don't be. I always seem to bring out the worst in you."

A strangled chuckle escapes in spite of myself. "You do. You really do."

His eyes roam my face with such tenderness, making the sadness dissipate and replacing it with warmth that seeps bone-deep. "Well, for what it's worth, you bring out the best in me."

_Good God, this man_.

"You're just trying to distract me," I mutter with a strained smile. "Keep going."

"Is that all you need? A distraction?" he asks, just before his lips connect with my neck, causing all the air to trickle out of my lungs. "I can manage that." His breath on my sensitive skin fans the flames of a need that transcends physical. The need to be closer. To have every part of us connected more than the need for oxygen.

I pull back enough to meet his eyes, mine telling him I want more than a distraction. A silent conversation is exchanged that continues with kisses as we make our way back to his bedroom.

I lead him to his bed, pulling off his t-shirt and tossing it someplace out of my way as I climb into his lap. When he grips the hem of my shirt, hesitating a moment as he waits for my permission, I raise my hands over my head in response. The sensation of his fingers gliding over my ribs and thumbs tracing the contours of my breasts as he removes my top makes me sigh, my eyelids fluttering closed as I drink in his touch.

We undress each other slowly, taking pleasure in the process. His gaze wanders over me appreciatively while those magical fingers map out my dips and curves. I wonder why I ever wanted to hide my body from him. The way his eyes hungrily drink me in makes me feel beautiful. He looks at me the same way I look at him.

Despite the urgency that is consuming me, his kisses are soft and leisurely, ambling down my neck and across my chest, making sure my shoulders don't feel neglected before making his way back to my mouth.

This feels too good to rush. The delicate caresses of fingertips along my spine, the delicious heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles contrasting the softness of his lips…I want to savor it, commit this wonderful, fluttery feeling to memory.

Eventually our breathing becomes too labored to kiss, and I can feel our hearts pounding against each other's flesh. When I have him cradled between thighs and my eyes are begging because the need is so strong, he finally, _finally_ slips inside me, completing the union. I wrap my legs around his back and link my ankles, drawing him in as deep as my body will allow.

Good God, how does this feel so perfect? My head sinks into the pillow as I release a soft whimper, relishing that initial sensation of stretching as my body accommodates his. It makes me feel…_whole._

We move together slowly, fingers entwined, maintaining the connection with our eyes when our mouths aren't joined. His reverent touch shows me how precious I am to him. My adoring gaze tells him I'm his. We make love like we mean it.

When we're curled up together afterward in soft, rumpled bed linens, I focus on how perfect his body feels against mine and the sweetness of his lips on my shoulder…not about the luggage in the other room, or the fact that this will be my last night in his bed for a long time. When he whispers he loves me as I'm fighting to keep my head above the surface of consciousness, there isn't a doubt in my mind.

**XXX**

I wake up tangled up in blankets and Edward. I tend to thrash about in my sleep, and to keep from being pushed off the bed, he wraps himself around me like a straightjacket.

I love it.

The room is cloaked in darkness, with a soft blue glow emanating from the alarm clock on the nightstand. I shift carefully to avoid disturbing my human comforter so I can check the time.

"Hey." His gravely voice surprises me.

"Sorry, I was trying not to wake you."

He gives me a gentle squeeze. "You didn't. I've been up for a while."

He relaxes his hold as I roll over to face him. "Trouble sleeping?" I ask, combing my fingers through his erratic but oh-so-soft hair.

"Nope. Just listening to you," he says with a lazy grin.

"Listening to me what?" _Oh no, please don't tell me I snore. _

"You talk in your sleep."

My eyes widen in a brief panic. My college roommate, Gianna, told me about my nonsensical nocturnal ramblings, but I thought it only happened when I'd been drinking. I groan into the pillow. "Do I even want to know what I say?"

"Oh, it runs the gamut." There's amusement in his voice. "Sometimes it's just random words.

Other times you seem to actually be having a conversation. Just now, you were apparently shopping for Batman Underoos."

A rather unladylike snort escapes, followed by an awkward giggle. I'm even a tool when I'm unconscious.

"Got a secret fetish for superheros, Swan?" he murmurs huskily into my ear.

_Ha. If he only knew._

"Why, would you be interested in fulfilling it?" I tease back, nuzzling closer.

"For you?" His thumb drags across my lower lip, stirring the butterflies in my belly and getting the girlie bits' full attention. "No."

I flash a mock pout before rolling back over with a huff. His arms draw me close again, and his chin rests on my shoulder. I may "accidentally" grind my ass into him as I snuggle in, smirking when I feel him harden and return an accidental grind of his own. His hand finds my hip, but I'm more than a little disappointed when it just stays there.

Edward draws in a deep breath, and my eyes drift closed at the warmth of his exhale on my skin. Abandoning my hip, his hand moves to mine, interlacing our fingers and bringing them to rest over my heart.

"I'm going to miss this," he says softly.

I can barely respond with a weak "mhmm," because the sentiment makes that lump in my throat return. It's crazy how much I'll miss this intimate sense of well-being I have with him; words can't begin to express how much. "I'm going to miss everything about you," I manage, turning my body to face him again. "I love everything about you."

I stroke his cheek, loving the roughness of his scruff and hating the intense seriousness in his face. My lips seek his out as I throw my leg over his hip and pull our lower halves together.

Yup. Still happy to see me.

"I think I've had enough sleep for tonight," I mutter right below his ear, gently nipping at his neck.

"Oh, really?" he replies, his playful tone returning. He slides his broad hand down my body to cup my ass, rubbing his length between my legs, and making me answer with a breathless hiss.

In about sixteen hours, we are going to be back in Forks. Which means we are going to have to sneak around like a couple of teenagers to get any "alone" time. If this is going to be my last stretch of quality naked time in the sanctuary of his bed, I sure as hell don't want to waste it sleeping, or being all emo.

I'm going to make it count.

"Absolutely. Sleep is highly overrated. And we'll have a six-hour flight to catch up on it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And we're off to Forks.

Is the visual of Edward in Batman Underoos better than having a stupid song in your head?

Food rec: If any of you have a Trader Joe's in your neighborhood, you HAVE to try their chocolate fudge sauce. Their salted caramel sauce is pretty friggin' epic as well. I am completely obsessed, people.

Fic recs: My Favorites list has fuckawesome stories in there. I only put the ones that I absolutely love on that list. Run! Go check it out!

So much love to the usual suspects, Prettyflour, NKubie, NuttyGinger, Twilly, Pennyloafer and Beccagold. Mcc101180 is the bestest beta in existence.

And you beautiful people in fanficland...Thank you, thank you, thank you. You guys keep me grinning. And writing :)

xoxo


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